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Chapter Text

Elizabeth Stewart awoke inside the corpse of a dead girl.

Her first breath, ragged and shallow, was suffused with the scent of blood and decay. It was a grotesque parody of birth—choking not on amniotic fluid, but on the remnants of dried blood and mucus that clogged her lungs. Air rasped through a raw and unfamiliar throat with each desperate gasp of air. Stiff muscles screamed in protest at the slightest movement.

Each sensation was a cruel, chilling reminder that this body was not her own. The only thing she knew when she awoke was that this was wrong. She was not in the right place. Not in the right body.

The darkness around her was thick and oppressive. It pressed in from all sides as she struggled to orient herself. The floor beneath her was cold. As she shifted, a sharp pain shot through her side, forcing a strangled gasp from her lips. The sound echoed off the stone walls-- just as eerie and hollow as her voice itself. As if the very space she occupied was recoiling from her presence.

She forced her eyes open, though they felt as though they had been glued shut for centuries. The dim light revealed the grisly reality of her surroundings. It looked like a basement-- damp and reeking of death. Her vision swam as she tried to make sense of the scene before her. The details slowly sharpened into focus, and she realized with mounting horror that she was surrounded by bodies. Lifeless bodies. As cold as they were hard to the touch. She recoiled instantly.

The bodies were piled haphazardly with limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Elizabeth put another hand down to try and lift herself from the bed she was sprawled atop. In a terror, she lurched away. She hadn't been sleeping on a bed. She'd been sprawled atop the pile of the dead like some morbid effigy.

A surge of panic gripped her, and she fought to suppress it. Her mind racing to piece together the fragments of memory that fluttered just out of reach.

She knew she was Elizabeth Stewart. But that name felt distant. Detached. As though it belonged to someone else.

The body she inhabited was Aliena Greengrass. That name came more easily to the forefront of her mind, which was terrifying. And with the recollection of the name brought a wave of sorrow that was not her own.

Elizabeth forced herself to sit up, her movements sluggish and painful. Every inch of her body protested, as if it remembered its death and resented this unwelcome resurrection. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the slow, uneven thud of a heart that had no right to beat. This was no dream; it was something far worse.

She needed to escape, to understand what had happened. But the weight of Aliena’s memories began to press down on her and intertwine with her own. Like a dark vine choking out the light. The deaths—Aliena’s, her family’s—flashed before her eyes in a brutal, disjointed sequence, and Elizabeth had to clench her fists to keep from screaming.

The men upstairs now were laughing so boisterously it could be heard through the floor.

That sunny summer day under the oak tree. The horror that followed the screams from the house.

On that day, Aliena should have ran away. She should not have run toward the sound of her mother’s voice. She should have pushed further into the forest. Maybe things would have been different if she had.

A door opened at the top of the stairs. Fear gripped Elizabeth and she silently let herself lay back down and closed her eyes, splaying her limbs in the fashion they had been when she had awoken only moments before. She had to pretend to be dead, now. She had to be dead.

Stop it, Elizabeth thought. Turn off. Stop thinking. Stop. 

Voices traveled down the stairs. They were speaking Swedish. Elizabeth couldn’t speak Swedish, but in a horrific moment she realized she could understand them. Their words— she could understand Swedish.

”If you don’t go now, they’ll start to smell. Bring them far enough into the woods where the wolves will find them.”

Steps. One, two, three. They continued until they hit the stone floor. Boots. Male. Not exceptionally heavy.

It took great effort to keep her eyes closed. To slow her breaths down to the point where she didn’t appear to be breathing at all.

Then, she was lifted into the air. What is this? She did not feel a warm body or touch lift her. Only air. Elizabeth almost lurched up at the shock of being lifted into the air but nothing at all, but stopped herself.

Distant memories that did not belong to her surfaced at the back of her mind.

Magic. Wands. Grimoires. Potions brewing. Bowtruckles on little fingers. Fingers of a sister. A litter of crup puppies rolling in the grass. 

Elizabeth didn’t know how long she was immersed in these memories. Ones of magic and splendor. Of a happy childhood. A family with two loving parents and a little sister. A sister with whom she fought with and laughed with. 
She remembered a letter arriving from an owl's beak with a red wax seal, and the following memory of grim looks from her parents. She remembered her mother dropping the letter into the fireplace: “We will teach you, min käraste. It is much safer here at home.”

Home was large hearths and hand painted tiles. It was the northern lights dancing above the house. A pink arm chair. Freshly fallen snow in the dead of night. Christmas trees decorated in tinsel and candles and ribbons. It was pianos playing from another room while her little sister played dress up. It was sneaking into each other's rooms night to build forts and have sleepovers. It was stealing cookies and reading stories and lighting sparklers. Freshly baked bread. A new pair of red slippers. Rosy cheeks and numb noses. Raindrops on the windowsill. Hot chocolate with fresh cream. Counting stars. Stitching hand puppets. Birthday candles.

All of the memories flooded into her mind violently.

Elizabeth wanted to keel over and vomit, but she couldn’t. They were outside now and the wind was so strong and loud it whistled. She could feel the cold seeping into her bones. She was still floating, floating, floating. There was sunlight somewhere beyond her eyelids. Bright and blinding. The footsteps sounded muffled and crunched. It had been snowing. Somehow, even without her vision, she knew it was true. 

Until suddenly, she was dropped harshly onto the ground. The snow below cushioned her fall, but she still felt the pain of a stick digging into her elbow. Elizabeth still did not flinch. She did not move. Terror seized her entire being. Someone was watching her. 

A moan from her side froze her insides. The stranger watching sucked in a startled breath, paused, and then kicked the body next to her.

”Creepy fuckin thing.” the voice muttered in Swedish. The feet turned and walked back the way they came, growing more and more distant. Elizabeth dared to open her eyes a crack. The figure retreated through the woods. Elizabeth waited till he was finally gone, and then opened her eyes fully. Still she waited, and waited. Just to be sure. After a few long minutes stretched by, Elizabeth sat up stiffly and brought her hand to her elbow. The snow had seeped into the clothing she wore.

Elizabeth vomited as her memories collided.

She vaguely remembered putting the flimsy dress on that fateful summer morning. No, not her. Aliena.

She was Elizabeth. Elizabeth.

Now, it was wintertime and she wore nothing more than scraps of rags. She remembered being starved and tortured. She remembered Aliena’s mind fracturing into thousands of pieces over and over. She remembered the last month Aliena had spent begging for death. And the first months begging for mercy. Not for herself, but for her little sister.

Her little sister, who died first. Her little sister who had been brought to the forest months ago, bloated and cold and stiff. 

Her father was the next to die. He was properly insane by then. He spoke in tongues and had scratched his fingernails off on the walls of the basement cellar. He drew strange symbols with his own blood. He convulsed toward the end. Hitting his head over and over against the stone floor.

Elizabeth glanced over now. It was his body that had made the groaning sound, and who the man had kicked. He was staring at her. His eyes were milky grey. Mouth hung open with black dried blood coating the inside. His tongue was thick and white. His face had blisters and his skin had turned a sickly green.

She did not look at the other body. Some part of her could not stomach it. 

Elizabeth shuttered and turned away, forcing her stiff limbs to move.

Just stand up. Just get up, that’s all you have to do. It took several tries, and in the process Elizabeth had started to cry angry, hot tears. She could feel Aliena’s father staring into her back.

But the tears warmed her face. At the very least.

It took a while to lift her limbs off the ground. When she finally did, she swayed on her feet and had to grab a nearby tree to keep herself standing.

Elizabeth's mind reeled as she leaned against the tree, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The memories of magic that had flooded her consciousness earlier now took on a new significance. Wands, spells, potions—they weren't just fragments of a child's imagination. They were real.

A realization dawned on her, so absurd that she almost laughed. She was in the world of Harry Potter. No, that couldn’t be true. Not really. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. If this was true, then she had a way out. Apparition.

No, it was silly. 
Elizabeth's eyes trailed from the sky, outlined by bare trees. They fell back onto the lumps on the ground. Two large lumps. Her stomach seized. 

A man's hand holding a wand, repairing a scrape on Aliena's knee. A woman with hair as white as snow carefully chopping ingredients into fine pieces before dropping them into a bubbling cauldron. 
It couldn't be real. 

Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying to remember the three D's. She knew Harry Potter so well. It was like a hobby. Or a home. 

In that world, apparition required three things: Destination, Determination, Deliberation. She pictured a safe place—anywhere but here—and turned on the spot.

Nothing happened.

Her father's hand, grabbing a live gnome by the head and tossing it over the garden wall. 

It's real, Elizabeth thought. Just to keep her going. To give her some warmth, some light. Just pretend it's real.

She tried again, gritting her teeth against the pain in her stiff muscles. Still nothing. Panic began to set in. What if she couldn't do it? What if she was trapped here, in this frozen forest of death?

Elizabeth took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She was thinking like Elizabeth, not Aliena. She needed to access Aliena's memories, her magical knowledge. Closing her eyes once more, she delved deep into the recesses of her borrowed mind.

Images flashed before her: a cozy living room, a warm-faced woman demonstrating the proper wand movement, a young Aliena practicing in secret.

She turned again, this time feeling a slight pull behind her navel. But still, she remained rooted to the spot. Frustration welled up inside her, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the snow, Elizabeth's attempts grew more desperate. She pictured different destinations: Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, even number 12 Grimmauld Place. Each time, she felt the magic stirring within her, but it wasn't enough.

Then, as twilight deepened into night, a memory surfaced—not Aliena's, but Elizabeth's own. A quote from the books: "The important thing is to mean it."

Elizabeth had been so focused on the technique, on Aliena's memories, that she had forgotten the most crucial element: intent.

Elizabeth straightened up, ignoring the protest of her aching body. She closed her eyes one last time. But instead of picturing a destination, she focused on a feeling. Safety, warmth, home. Not Aliena's home, but the concept of home itself.

She turned, and this time, the pull behind her navel was unmistakable. The world compressed around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. For a terrifying moment, she thought she might be torn apart.

And then, suddenly, it was over. Elizabeth opened her eyes to find herself standing in a dimly lit street. Gaslight lamps cast a warm glow over cobblestone pavements, and a creaky sign hung from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The Leaky Cauldron.

She had done it. She had apparated.

As relief washed over her, Elizabeth stepped forward, tears streaming down her face. She was alive. She was alive.

But her foot slid out from under her as she took a step. The world went silent as gravity pulled her. A sharp pain in her temples. Her eyes slowly closed and opened as a loud ringing overtook every thought. The lights dimmed and a shadowy figure approached. There was nothing now. No beginning and no end. Elizabeth did not remember surrendering consciousness.

—

Tom Riddle did not care much for winter. Cold, wet things were not something he gravitated toward.

He never truly understood the fuss about Christmas or snow. It was a fool’s holiday. The only good thing were the presents to be gained.

He’d received plenty of presents on Christmas and his birthday— now that he was a fifth year. Each year they’d become more expensive and elaborate. Before his time at Hogwarts, Tom had received nothing but some scraps from donation bins. But Christmas at Hogwarts was something else entirely. It's warmth seemed to glow brighter after all the other students had left. When snow fell outside, it felt just a bit cozier than usual. This particular night, a blizzard loomed beyond the window of the dim library.

A voice called. It would be curfew soon.

Tom rose and closed the book he had been reading, still staring at the storm outside. This would certainly be one for the newspapers. A blizzard in Scotland. How unusual.

Normally, Tom would be spending his Christmas afternoon at one of his friends’ balls or dinner parties. This year, it was supposed to be Malfoy hosting.

But only two days ago Abraxas Malfoy had sent Tom a letter stating that the party had to be called off. Tom read following letters from his followers discussing their disappointment and inviting him to stay at their own manors. Tom had rejected all such invitations. Most of the letters had gossiped about Malfoy’s family and how improper it was to cancel such an event only two days before it was to take place.

Malfoy’s letter was received with Tom’s great interest.

‘Dear Tom,

Obviously you would have received the unfortunate news. The party has been canceled.

It seems my mother received some unfortunate news and is in disarray. Of course, I knew she’d had a sister, but my parents never spoke of her. I've never met my aunt. She’d eloped with some wizard after she graduated from Hogwarts some years ago and hadn’t been in touch with my family since. My mother and Aunt were not on good terms.

It seems my estranged Aunt has gone and been murdered. Grindelwald’s forces took over Sweden. My Aunt and her Husband were hiding out in a manor in the countryside when they were captured and tortured for months. This of course would not be quiet so regrettable, as I did not know these people at all.

If not for my cousins involvement. Of course, I’ve never met my cousins before. In fact, I never even knew of their existence until now. I had two female cousins— who knew? Certainly not me.’

Tom rolled his eyes. This letter was getting quite tedious. He persevered.

‘Now it seems we must prepare a funeral for these strangers. Seems like a waste of money to me since they never even bothered to send a letter to us before, but who am I to speak on these matters? My cousin is in a coma in St. Mungo's. I’m surprised to find my mother is quite worked up about it. I didn’t think she was close with her sister. I suppose it must be the shock of it all.

I’ve sent your present by owl since our plans have been thrown to the side. Though, I heard the weather is not very favorable and do not know if it will reach you in time before the coming storm. Happy Christmas.

Your loyal follower,

Abraxas Malfoy’

Tom tossed the letter onto his desk.

Familial problems were much more tedious and boring than any other subject. The only bit he had found interesting was the part about Grindelwald taking over Sweden and murdering Malfoy’s relatives.

It really was quite nice having the entire dorm room to himself. There was already a surplus of male Slytherins in his year. A whopping eight of them had been sharing a single room since their first year. While the numbers certainly played out in Tom’s favor the majority of the time, he often wished he had is own private quarters. 

Abraxas had been right. Tom hadn’t received Malfoy’s present in time before the storm. In fact, he hadn’t received any at all. He was sure this would be rectified once the storm cleared, but he still sat alone in his room with nothing to show for his success at making “friends”. Of course, he never really considered them his friends. Followers. Worshipers. Sheep. Tools. These words were much more fitting.

It took another day after Christmas for all the packages and letters to start coming in. It was a busy breakfast. Not many students remained at school during the winter holidays, but of all of them, Tom certainly had the most impressive display of presents and letters dropped in front of his food at breakfast. He had to levitate them all to his rooms due to the sheer size.

He spent his time opening them. The first package he received was from some girl. Ravenclaw, pretty, popular, and pureblood. He tested them for a love potion, as he always did when he received a present from a girl. When none seemed to be involved, he popped a chocolate into his mouth and savored the sweetness as he opened the rest of his mountain of gifts.

When he was finally finished, he set aside all of his expensive gifts and letters from admirers. He had no desire to open any letters now.

Still, Malfoy’s elaborate handwriting stood out from the rest, and Tom took it into his hands. The daily prophet peeked through underneath the letter and he picked that out as well.

He opened Malfoy’s letter.

‘Dear Tom,

I’m writing to you from Denmark. It’s quite pretty here, but horrifically cold. The funeral had to be held here because their bodies could not be retrieved from the forest they were abandoned in, and Sweden is in a right state with this war. Denmark certainly isn’t doing much better. How morbid it was to watch three empty coffins being lowered into the ground.

My father is upset about the matter of inheritance. The entire Greengrass manor and grounds have been overtaken by those murderous ruffians who killed them. Of course, this would mean nothing if my aunt had married some insignificant half-blood. But she actually had eloped with a Greengrass. They’re quite wealthy and reputable. My father is absolutely fuming.

Not only this but their financial accounts were entirely in Sweden and even after transferring the funds to Gringotts, our family was given no access to them. They apparently are all left in my insolent cousin’s name. She’s still in a coma. She apparently somehow managed to apparate away from the scene. She’s the only survivor. My mum’s gone to visit her but I absolutely refuse to go. The girls practically dead. It would be disgusting.

It seems my mother was actually named Godmother to the girl. Seems a bit strange since my mother and aunt haven’t spoken in years. They truly must not have had any friends at all. Pathetic life to live. Just goes to show what happens when you marry a dimwit. Dead in a frozen forest.

Anyhow, it seems if the girl manages to survive she’ll have to be brought into my family. My mother already said that if she wakes, she should be brought to the manor. I can’t imagine a worse nightmare.

Regrettably,

Abraxas Malfoy’

Tom crumpled it up and tossed it over his shoulder. He picked up the prophet. The first page was covering the blizzard. The next page was about the war. Tom read it thoroughly. He was wrapped up in the politics of the wizarding world when he turned the page. A large photograph displayed a young girl laying motionless in a hospital bed.

That wasn’t what caught his attention, though. Dumbledore himself stood in front of the bed with a grim-looking expression. There was another, smaller photograph below it. This one was older, and showed a small family. It wasn’t moving, so it must have been muggle. A family unit. A tall man and slender woman. A baby was swaddled in the woman's arms, and a young girl had her arms wrapped around her father’s shoulders. The caption read, ‘The last known photograph of the Greengrass Family, 1930’

Tom could see the uncanny resemblance in Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Greengrass. They both had stark platinum blonde hair with a piercing gaze. The photo was black and white, but Tom could imagine those icy blue eyes. Those high aristocratic cheekbones and perfect mouth. A beautiful young women. Twins. They had been twins.

Tom glanced at the little girl. Was this the one that had survived?

The girl stared into the camera’s lense with a defiant, angry expression. Her little eyes were stormy and on fire. Her hair was long and white. Tom wondered if she looked like her mother by now. If her eyes were the same icy blue. If her hair the same white-blonde.

Tom scanned the article. So the older one was indeed the one who had survived. She was currently lying unconscious in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's. Professor Dumbledore had discovered her in front of the Leaky Cauldron and immediately brought her to the urgent care facility. News of the parents and younger sisters death. The manor overrun by Grindelwald’s forces. The article posed questions about the girls escape and unknown future.

She's fifteen years old. Tom’s age. Of course, though, he’d be turning sixteen in a few days.

If she had attended Hogwarts, would she have been in his year? This thought was discarded almost immediately. Such things did not matter. Tom closed the paper and tossed it to the side right next to Malfoy’s letter.

There was nothing much else to do but wait. 

Chapter Text

Elizabeth woke slowly. At first it felt like a heavy weight pressed on her chest incessantly. An image of Atlas holding up the sky conjured in her mind. Trying to stay awake was just as difficult as holding up the sky.

Then, just like that, sleep claimed her again.

The second time she woke was at night. There were no bright lights. Just a soft glow from a small window in the door. Elizabeth’s mouth had never been drier. When she tried to move, it took a strenuous effort to even lift her arm. There was a glass of water on the table. She smacked her lips and did her best to muster whatever strength possible.

Picking up the glass proved to be more difficult than preconceived notions. Elizabeth's hand shook profusely until the glass slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor.

Moments later, the door thrust open and a middle-aged woman came in wearing a strange sort of outfit. She was dressed like Florence Nightingale, in a long grey dress with a white apron and white cap. At her waist hung a bundle of small metal devices that clanged when she walked, and in her hand she held a long wooden stick. Perhaps the woman had just finished plucking a nicely shaped branch off a tree. 

The woman looked shocked but quickly schooled her features. ”Hello,” she said softly, and waved the stick in the air. To Elizabeth’s amazement the glass repaired itself and all the water disappeared. The nearby pitcher miraculously rose into the air and poured a fresh glass. Like magic!

“Woah.” Elizabeth tried to say but it came out cracked and incoherent, sounding more like an old frog croaking. The woman plucked the cup right out of the air and lifted it to Elizabeth’s dry lips. She gulped down the water greedily.

“Slowly,” the woman said, withtaking the glass. Elizabeth swallowed. And her stomach turned over.

She took in deep breaths.

”Aliena, how are you feeling?” The nurse asked.

Elizabeth looked up at the woman in confusion. Aliena? That’s not her name. No, her name is Elizabeth.

But then the memories came flooding back. It hit her like a tsunami, and she leaned her head back against the pillow with a sudden lightheaded daze. The woman lifted the glass to her lips again and Elizabeth took another greedy gulp.

“Here, you should take this potion.”

Elizabeth glanced at the small vial being lifted to her lips. She hesitated briefly and then gulped it down. It tasted sour. Elizabeth clenched the sheets in her fist. She caught sight of them.

White as snow. As snow. It was cold again, and she was laying there among corpses. The sun was bright through overcast.

White. White. White, everywhere.

Elizabeth’s ears rang.

“Where am I?” Her voice was scratchy and very quiet, but at least decipherable.

“You’re in St. Mungo’s Hospital. Don’t worry, you’re safe now. We’re going to take care of you.”

Take care.

”I died.” She said simply.

The woman's face edged into concern. ”I assure you, Aliena. You’re perfectly alright now. You just need some good rest.” She adjusted the pillows and fussed with the comforter and sheets.

Elizabeth didn’t press the subject. She had died. Aliena had died. Elizabeth tried to recall her own last memory, not the strange "other" memories that plagued her mind.

She had been lying in bed at home, reading a book off her phone. It was very late at night. Her parents were asleep in the house. Her dogs were asleep as well. She remembered the way the moon had looked that night, shining through her open curtains. 

Now, she turned her head to find that this hospital window held a different moon. Not a cloud in the sky. A new moon— totally black and lifeless.

“What day is it?” she asked. The woman took one of the silver devices from her waist and clicked it open. A pocket watch.

“Well, it’s the first of January now. Happy new year, Aliena.” She said warmly.

“What year?”

”1943.”

“1943.” Elizabeth echoed. 1943. ”Am I dreaming?” She asked, a bit dazed.

The woman smiled. “No, this is not a dream. You’ve woken up.”

Elizabeth hummed but did not quite believe her. But if she were dreaming, would she be able to smell that scent? Freshly laundered sheets and lemon. If she were dreaming, would she feel so sore and cold? Would she remember so clearly when she had woken up in that frozen hell?

If she were dreaming, would she recall those strange otherworldly memories that did not belong to her, but belonged to that girl whose body she occupied?

Aliena, she remembered. The girl's name is Aliena. 

She looked down at her hands. They were different. Her fingers were slender and long and elegant. They creased differently on her palms. Her blue and green veins were much more visible and skin much paler.

“Come now,” the nurse fussed. “Time for sleep.”

Elizabeth allowed the woman to tuck her in.

“Can I use the restroom first?” She asked. As if just realizing it, Elizabeth found she was using a british accent. She’d never had an accent before. Her voice sounded strange and feathery light. Like a duchess.

“Of course, but you may be too weak. Let me help you.” The woman said, opening up the sheets and helping her to move her feet over the edge of the bed.

Elizabeth’s eyes snagged on those legs. Long and pale and utterly foreign. She stood, leaning most of her weight on the nurse and letting the older woman guide her to the corner where a bathroom door opened magically and the light turned on.

It was small, but had a bath, toilet, and sink. And mirror. ”I can do it.” Elizabeth said when the woman tried to undo the back of the gown.

“Aliena—,” the woman started in protest, but Elizabeth took the sink and stood without her help. ”I can.” She said firmly. The nurse pursed her lips and took a long moment to step back and close the door behind her.

Finally, Elizabeth lifted her head and gazed into the mirror.

She really wasn’t herself. This girl in the mirror was tall and slender. Gaunt in the face with dark scary circles around her eyes. Those eyes. A striking silver. Almost glowing.

She was much prettier, even while sickly, than Elizabeth ever was. Her hair was straw-like and thin but long and wavy. It was the color of starlight.

Elizabeth looked away as soon as she could. The memories of this girl- of Aleina- haunted at the back of her mind. She made her way to the toilet slowly and sat.

Eventually she was able to pee. After another long time she’d managed to lift her undergarments back up and tied the back of the hospital gown.

The nurse helped her back in bed, fussing and fretting. After putting Elizabeth back into place, she shut off the light and left the room. Elizabeth stared out the window.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

She screwed her eyes shut and pinched her arm.

She opened her eyes and sat up. Still, she was there.

It took several days for Aliena to realize she was not going to wake up from this dream. It took even longer to come to terms with the fact that she was in the world of Harry Potter. The same magical world that she had always dreamed of and longed for.

Why? Why was she here?

It seemed the healers and nurses thought her strange questions and actions were due to the trauma she had endured, which was a whole new can of worms Elizabeth suppressed in her mind.

On the third day, Dumbledore came to visit her.

When she saw him her mouth hung open. He looked different than he did in the movies or even how she'd imagined in the books. In fact, he was much handsomer than she thought. How old was he supposed to be? Elizabeth couldn’t remember, though she did consider herself quite the fan. He was redheaded but greying. His hair was past his shoulders and his beard was full and greying as well. His eyes sparkled like sapphires behind a pair of delicate half moon spectacles. He wore a brightly colored robe with strange designs and a mustard yellow tunic underneath.

When he stood in the doorway, Elizabeth knew immediately who he was. Only this could be the great wizard from the stories.

“Good morning, Aliena. How are you feeling?” He asked.

Elizabeth shifted under that bright gaze. ”G-Good morning,” was all she could get out.

“May I take a seat?” He asked. She nodded stiffly and didn’t quite know what to do with her hands. ”It’s lovely to meet you. Well, awake, that is,” he said with a kind smile.

Something in Elizabeth unfurled. She liked to think she knew a lot about people, and who was good and bad. In the stories she'd read about him, he made horrible decisions. Endangered the lives of children. Raised Harry like a pig for slaughter.

But this man was not quite that same man. She knew he would do some bad things, in the future. But for now, he was good. And she needed him.

“They told me you found me outside the Leaky Cauldron.” She said.

He nodded. “You gave me quite the fright. Apparated right where I was going to take a step.”

”Really?” She asked, laughing softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No no my dear girl. You were very lucky. And smart. You got here just in time.”

Elizabeth nodded, looking at her fingers briefly before meeting his gaze again.

“I’m glad you are okay. Making quite the recovery.” He added. His gentle smile never faded and he continued. “I’ve brought you some chocolates. They’re quite good for the soul.” He said, taking a bundle of sweets out of his robes and handing them to her. She took them and opened up the package right away.

“Would you like one?” She offered before popping one in her mouth. It melted instantly and sent warmth flooding through her. It brought a smile to her lips without her thinking, which felt strange. She realized that she hadn’t remembered the last time she’d smiled.

“No, thank you. I’ve had some of my own. Ate the whole package in one go.” He said happily patting his stomach.

Elizabeth nodded and ate another. ”They’re very good,” she commented after she swallowed.

He beamed at her. ”Aren’t they?” Elizabeth waited but didn’t quite realize what she was waiting for. Thankfully, he spoke. ”My name is Albus Dumbledore. It’s lovely to meet you. You’ve been through much. It takes great strength, you know.”

Elizabeth turned her face to the window and then back to him. ”Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. But I’m afraid I haven’t been through much at all.”

Something indistinguishable flashed in his expression, but it was gone too quickly to decipher. He said, “Haven’t been through much? My dear girl I believe you do not know what much is.” He sounded concerned, which startled Elizabeth.

”It is like—… Well it is like that wasn’t me at all. I believe it must be because of my condition.”

A moment of silence.

”Of course. Though it is important, Aliena, that you do not forget that it was you who endured what you did.”

”Yes. I suppose it was me. In some ways.” Elizabeth commented, and it was true. She retained many memories from the girl whose body she now occupied. While they were distant, as if she were watching a movie from somewhere else, they retained the feeling and potency that any memory would.

”I must give you my condolences. I am—… I am deeply sorry for what happened to your family. To your home. And to you.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and wondered if Dumbledore had cried for her. For the story which everyone seemed to now know. Elizabeth let these words sink in. Absorbed them well. Though, she didn’t quite know what to do or say with other’s condolences. What do you say to someone who is sorry? Of course, Elizabeth realized, he must be blaming himself for much of the losses of this war. Grieving those who were hurt or killed at the hand of someone who he had loved. Maybe even still loved.

“Thank you.” was all she could say back, and then found the words. “War is cruel. But I.... do not hate them.”

Dumbledore looked at her in shock. ”Who?”

”The men who did this to me. Who killed my family and took my home. Who tortured and starved me. I-…,” Elizabeth said. She paused. Could she forgive them? Did she have the right? Would Aliena want her to? She remembered deeply the last thoughts of that girl.

The way that in her final moments, Aliena was glad. She was happy to be with her family again. She was happy it was over.

Aleina was no longer here. Just Elizabeth. ”I do not resent those who are cruel and evil. They know not what they do.” Elizabeth remembered the words of Jesus in his final moments on the cross. How he begged God to forgive those who crucified him. She thought of how Elizabeth could grant this similar forgiveness, even now. It meant nothing, anyhow. 

”Grindelwald fights for something. I suppose it is power. Maybe something more. He is a broken man. I can only hope he finds peace and love eventually. One day this war will end. I do not wish what happened to me on anyone-- not even him.”

There was a great stretch of heavy silence now. Elizabeth wondered if she had said something bad. But when she saw the look on Dumbledore’s face as he stared at the floor with his head bowed, she knew she had said something he perhaps needed to hear.

“You are very wise,” Dumbledore finally said. His voice sounded shaky. She knew that she had indeed struck a nerve. ”There are many in this world who fight hate with revenge. I can see you are not one of them. Love.. truly does conquer all… in the end.”

Elizabeth wondered why he came here. Was it a sense of duty? Of pity? Or perhaps a warped sense of responsibility.

Maybe it was all three. Elizabeth didn’t want any of it. But it wasn’t all about her, was it?

”I actually came with something else, Aliena.” he said, finally meeting her gaze. Whatever tears that had rimmed his eyes were gone now as he retrieved something else from his pocket and handed it to her. A thick cream envelope with red wax seal. She read the front.

’Miss A. Greengrass,

Room 7

4th Floor

St. Mungo’s Hospital For Magical Maladies and Injuries

Guildford’

On Elizabeth's eleventh birthday, her parents had made a fake Hogwarts letter. The little invitations she handed out in school had been similar. The birthday party was Harry Potter themed. The cupcakes were shaped like little cauldrons and the cake looked like the smashed one from the first movie. She’d received a fake time turner, a full CD set of the audiobooks, a stuffed Hedwig, among other themed gifts. She remembered the way her heart fluttered when she ripped open the letter and read the contents on that day. How she'd squealed with delight and hung it on her wall.

Now, she was fifteen, in a hospital room in a foreign land while a character from her favorite childhood books handed her a ticket to everything she had ever dreamed of. It felt wrong to be happy. It felt wrong.

Her family and friends weren’t here. They were so so far away in a different world. A world without magic where she dreaded high school and dreamed of far off magical worlds.

Elizabeth laughed. The sound was so distant and strange that for a moment she didn’t even realize it came from her mouth.

“You want me to come to Hogwarts?” She asked.

He nodded. ”It’s the safest place in all of Europe. You would find a home there. Make a new life for yourself, and find hopes for a better future. Did you know….” he started slowly, “you apparated 1,200 miles without a wand? And at fifteen years old no less. This sort of magic is... improbable.”

Elizabeth shifted, uncomfortable. She hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought at all, actually.

“Such a miracle cannot be overlooked. The Ministry of Magic sees it as a great feat of accidental magic during duress. In fact, I have many scholars breathing down my neck about ensuring you attend this coming fall. Even the Minister for Magic himself.”

Elizabeth thought for a moment, and then smiled at him. It wasn’t the smile of a bright child with their future ahead of them. It was one tainted by the horrors of war and pain beyond measure. A child who pretended forgiveness meant something, when deep down she knew that it ultimately meant nothing at all. 

Dumbledore thought for a moment that maybe that attempt at a smile was a miracle in itself, of a different sort.

"I do hope you consider the offer," he said. 

Aliena's eyes widened like two glowing full moons.

“Yes. Of course I’d love to go to Hogwarts.”

The fourth floor of St. Mungo's was strange.

When Elizabeth had finally been able to walk down the hall, she found why she had been bombarded with magical and psychological evaluations everyday.

She was staying in a loony bin.

When she returned to her room she opened the window and listened to the sounds of the city. Distantly she could hear music but couldn’t identify the tune. She hummed along, wishing more than anything that she at least had music to console her.

She could tell from her interactions with the healers they thought she had a screw loose. Morbidly, to herself, she supposed she did. Maybe somewhere in her world she was laying in a hospital bed deluding herself into thinking she was in 1943 'Harry Potter land'. Maybe her parents spoke to a soulless statue praying their little girl would come back to them.

She cried about this thought so much that she had grown numb to it. Two weeks of being treated like a madwoman, and maybe she was really becoming mad.

Her door creaked open. “Aliena? You have a visitor.”

She turned to the door.

Standing in the threshold was a woman Aliena didn’t recognize. Or at least, recognize to be alive.

The last time she’d seen the woman she had been bloated and green and laying in the snow face down.

Elizabeth stumbled back, clutching the windowsill to keep herself from falling out of it. The window slammed shut and locked, the attending nurse acting quickly.

”What have I told you about opening the window?! I’m sure I locked that with a spell.” She muttered the last part.

“Get out.” Elizabeth said, heart hammering in her chest.

Sure, she had been playing with the idea of going truly crazy but ‘I see dead people’ was not on her agenda of things she would indulge.

The nurse stepped forward. ”Aliena, this is your Aunt Belphia. She has come to pay you a visit.” 

“She-,” Elizabeth started, covering her mouth with her hand. Her aunt. Yes, of course. This couldn’t be Aliena’s mother. Aliena’s mother was dead.

Her aunt.

Yes, this was her aunt. Now that she looked at the woman properly she was clearly not as warm as the memory of Aliena's mother was. She would have looked exactly identical were it not for the frown lines that etched the sides of the woman’s mouth. Were it not for the dismal black robe ensemble that was all too gloomy, tasteful, and wealthy to be anything that Aliena’s mother would wear.

Elizabeth’s eyes roved up and down the woman over and over and over as if reminding herself. This was her aunt. Aunt Belphia.

She wracked her brain. Distant memories surfaced. Like watching a movie in her mind.

‘”You do have an Aunt. My twin sister. We’re identical.”

“Identical?” Child Aliena asked her mother as she sat on her lap, playing with her hair. ”Exactly alike. At least, we look exactly alike. In truth, Belphia isn’t like me at all. In every other way we are opposites.”

“Opposites?” Aliena had asked.

“Yes. Like how light is the opposite of dark. Two things that are totally unalike.”

“Are you dark or light mommy?” Aliena asked. Her mother smiled endearingly, petting her head.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I am light and sometimes she is dark. Sometimes I am dark and she is light.”

“That’s silly.”

Aliena’s mother laughed. A beautiful joyous sound unlike any other.

“Yes, mommy is very silly.” she said, tickling Aliena, who shrieked and struggled to break free from her grasp. Her mother blew a raspberry into Aliena’s cheek, who giggled fiercely in return.’

“I’m sorry, Aliena. This is why I have been delaying my visit.” Aunt Belphia said remorsefully. Well, it would be remorseful if she sounded the least bit sorry. Her expression was cold and distant. Even her prim posture was immovable. “I know this must be quite a shock.” She finally added.

Elizabeth stood from the window seat.

Aliena was almost as tall as her. She sat back down again when a sudden wave of lightheadedness hit her.

“I told them to warn you of my visit.” Aunt Belphia said, shooting a scathing look to the nurse, who flushed and bowed her head.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted with one another.” The nurse said, making her great cowardly escape and shutting the door behind her.

Aunt Belphia sighed and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and shook her head before composing herself.

Elizabeth wanted to speak first. She had to speak first. ”Aunt Belphia.” Was all she knew to say.

The woman apprased her. “Aliena. I regret to say I did not know of your existence until recent events. My sister—,” she cut herself off as something dark overtook her features. ”My sister and I were not on speaking terms.”

Elizabeth watched the woman school her features expertly. But she noticed the pain in her eyes. If she had blinked then she would have missed it.

“You’re welcome to sit,” Elizabeth said. She didn’t know what to say. What should she say? This woman had lost her twin sister and gained a niece she didn’t know existed. She had also lost another niece she didn’t know existed. What of Aliena’s little sister? Of her father?

Aunt Belphia nodded and levitated the armchair that was always perched in Elizabeth’s rooms for when Dumbledore visited, which he had taken to doing three more times after their initial meeting. She placed it closer to Elizabeth- but not too close- and then sat with all the grace of a noble lady of high rank.

Elizabeth remembered what she had first thought of Aliena's voice when she spoke. She thought she’d sounded like a duchess. Well, if Aliena was a duchess then this woman was an empress.

”I apologize for my rudeness. I did not realize—... that you would look so similar.” Elizabeth said.

”It is perfectly understandable… Aliena.”

Elizabeth watched as the woman stumbled over her name and then continued. ”The imbeciles that run this floor are to blame, not you.”

“It is strange to have an Aunt, when I never have before.” Elizabeth commented. And it was true, even in her past life she hadn’t had one aunt. Just one uncle who was hopelessly single well into his forties. 

“Yes, I could say the same. You… look very much like your mother.” Belphia said.

Elizabeth laughed shortly at the irony.

A ghost of a smile tugged at Aunt Belphia’s mouth. ”Of course, you have your father’s eyes.” She added. Elizabeth nodded. She had very similar features to her mother and aunt, but her eyes were the bright silver that were Aliena’s father’s rather than the electric blue of Aunt Belphia.

She tried to swallow that memory of those silver eyes of Aliena's father staring blankly at her, as she often found them in her nightmares.

“Did you know my father?” Elizabeth asked, feeling strange talking like they were her parents. Though, in a sense, they were.

“I met him only once. He was older, and whisked your mother away on a white horse shortly after. I told her it was stupid, and dangerous. But she was young and in love—,” she said, but Elizabeth cut her off.

”Well it’s lucky, I suppose. That his intentions were true. My mother and him remained in love until the day they died.” This silenced her aunt but Elizabeth let the woman think.

“Yes. Yes I suppose. She was very lucky. And very selfish as well.”

”Selfish?” Elizabeth asked, not allowing this woman’s very obvious scorn to waver her.

”She left us behind without a second glance. My father- your grandfather- told her she would be wiped from the family were she to do it. Completely cut off in every way. And she did it anyway.”

Elizabeth sensed a deep bitterness to this memory. She could imagine it in her mind’s eye. A young pureblooded girl whisked away.

“Why did my grandfather not approve, if I may ask? My father was a pureblood.” This fact was both true and nagging at the back of Elizabeth’s mind. She had tried to piece together the faint puzzle from Aliena’s memories but never quite deciphered why Aliena’s mother was cut off from her family.

“He was… She had been previously engaged to a suitor of my father's choosing. She abandoned him for your father.”

”Oh. Did you—?” Elizabeth didn’t have to ask the question. It was obvious.

“I was also engaged to a man of my father’s choosing. And yes, I married him. He’s a lovely man and father.”

This conversation was quite heavy for their first meeting, but Elizabeth could tell this sort of woman did not care to beat around the bush.

”Did you never try to… contact her?” Elizabeth dared to ask.

”No.” She said simply. “My father and I warned her of the consequences of her actions. She chose that man over her family.”

She sounded bitter. Elizabeth may have taken these things personally if it really were her family, or if she couldn’t see the deep-etched hurt on this woman’s heart.

“I’m sorry she abandoned you.”

Aunt Belphia didn’t seem to be expecting this, and she almost recoiled. ”It is… not your fault, Aliena. Your mother made a grave mistake. And it got her killed. I— I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive her for that. But you are here now, and you have the chance to redeem her.”

Elizabeth chose to ignore the tactless slight about bringing up Aliena’s family's murder. Or perhaps it was not tactless at all, but a purposeful jab. She was angry. Angry at her sister and was taking it out on Elizabeth.

Elizabeth could work with that. ”Anything I do cannot redeem my mother’s past. Surely you know that.”

”… Yes. Yes you’re right. You’re right.” Aunt Belphia was silent for a long moment and watched the window. Elizabeth turned her head and watched it with her, giving her this time to herself. Minutes passed, and Elizabeth was beginning to think she should say something. Aunt Belphia dashed this thought when she spoke again.

“Despite everything… I thought Mora hated me. Hated our family. And yet…,” she said. Mora? Oh. Aliena’s mother’s name was Baymora. A nickname. How strange. Elizabeth met the woman’s solemn gaze.

“She made me your godmother. Did you know?” Aunt Belphia asked. Elizabeth shook her head. Her aunt laughed dryly. “No, neither did I. I didn’t even know I had a goddaughter until my sister died and left you to me. She’s always been cruel.”

Elizabeth didn’t speak for a long moment, and then decided to finally break the silence.

”When my younger sister was born... I cried for a week," Elizabeth started, recalling Aliena's memories.

"I thought mother would stop loving me. One night, she came into my room and held me in her arms and told me a story. She told me she was happy that the baby was a girl. That there is nothing in the world quite like having a sister. She told me-- no matter what that I would have a best friend by my side, forever. That no matter how much we may argue, we would both know that deep down we would love each other more than any other person in the world.”

A tear fell from Elizabeth’s eye. She didn’t even realize she had been on the verge of crying, and touched the tear away in surprise. Perhaps it was Aliena somewhere inside of her, deep down. She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued.

“I lost my sister. My best friend. I-… I know you know what that's like.”

When a tear fell from Belphia’s eye, she didn’t wipe it away as Elizabeth had. She held her gaze and smiled. It was a strained, broken sort of smile. ”My sister is so cruel. Even beyond the grave she sends me someone so similar to her it’s uncanny.”

Elizabeth laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks and blurring her vision. ”I could say the same about you. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the shock of seeing you walk through the door.”

They spoke for a long time after that. And they sat in silence for much time as well.

This woman- her aunt- was hurting. Hurting in the same way Elizabeth hurt. And it felt a bit better, having someone else to hurt with.

Toward the end, Aunt Belphia said, “Once you are discharged, I expect you will stay with me?” It was a statement, a command, and a request all in one.

Elizabeth smiled endearingly. ”Of course, Aunt Belphia. I’m excited to see where you live.”

A knock at the door. ”Excuse me Mrs. Malfoy? Visiting hours have ended.”

Elizabeth jolted at the title.

“It was lovely to meet you, Aliena. I’ll be sure to visit soon.” She left with all the grace of an empress.

“Malfoy?” Elizabeth whispered as soon as the door shut.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

With the new year’s school term starting, Dumbledore’s visits stopped. He had warned her of his return to Hogwarts with the start of the spring term, but being without his company was certainly disappointing.

Of course, he sent letters about once a week asking about her condition and speaking about silly things to lift her mood. She asked questions about Hogwarts and requested books to be sent to her. Thankfully, Dumbledore didn’t disappoint. He sent her a strange variety of both magical and mundane novels. The magical sort were old textbooks and books about Hogwarts. He told her she would need to catch up on her knowledge before the end of term.

In order for her to attend school in the fall she would need to pass her O.W.L.s. But since the hospital was keen on keeping her for an undisclosed amount of time, she would need to be self-taught.

He also sent her the occasional muggle romance, which he said was “good for the soul”. Elizabeth had to agree. She read each book over and over again when she was bored, and found herself practicing practical spell work with her cutlery substituting for a wand to try and get the motions right.

Of course, she hadn’t meant to make her jell-o levitate with a fork. It just happened.

Up until that point, Elizabeth had been very convinced that she was not magical at all. She had never been magical in all her life. Just because she had transmigrated into the wizarding world of Harry Potter didn’t mean she herself was a witch.

When it happened, Elizabeth jumped out of her bed and smacked the bowl of jello down with her hand like she’d spotted a bug and killed it. The commotion brought her nurse into her room in a flurry. She took in the scene: Elizabeth out of bed with her food tray all over the bed and floor, and her hand covered in jell-o.

Crap.

Thankfully, her nurse cleaned the scene without a second thought and brought Elizabeth a new meal. Apparently such things were normal on the fourth floor. Being crazy certainly had it’s perks. Nobody questioned any strange behavior at all.

That night, Elizabeth took the book into her bathroom and set it on the floor, sitting cross-legged opposite of it. She hesitated and then tried lifting it, flicking her finger and muttering the words without a wand. It lifted into the air. Her stomach did a flip and she had to hold back from letting out an excited squeal.

Again, she tried, but this time with no words at all. All she did was think, ‘lift’. She didn’t even use the spell. And it lifted just as easily as before.

This time Elizabeth’s mouth pursed. She held out her hand.

‘Light’ she thought.

A small ball of light illuminated in the center of her palm like a light bulb turning on. ‘Off,’ and it turned off.

Elizabeth glanced at the book and then back to her hands. Something else was squirming in her gut now. She closed her eyes.

‘Lift’ she thought again. When she opened them, she found that her entire body was lifted into the air. ‘Lower’ and she was back seated on the cold tile.

Oh no. This wasn’t right. Her magic didn’t operate like regular magic, she was sure of it. This was all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be able to make herself levitate. Not to mention she wasn’t supposed to do wordless or wandless magic at this point. And she wasn’t even thinking of the correct incantations at all.

Elizabeth stood and looked at herself in the mirror. She tried to recall memories of Aliena performing magic. She recalled a short ash wand with unicorn hair core. The warm thrum as she learned charms. The first time Aliena had managed to transfigure a bowl into a mug. This isn’t right. Aliena had only been able to perform magic in the proper way. The classical way. As Elizabeth struggled to rack the old memories, she only ever came up to dead ends.

She remembered Dumbledore’s words about her apparating 1200 miles. About how the ministry was eager to send her to Hogwarts. That wasn’t a fluke, she realized. That wasn’t born out of desperation to survive.

Whatever magic this was, it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t of this world at all.

It made sense in a way. Elizabeth herself wasn’t of this world. Her very presence here went against all magical law. Perhaps her presence itself was warping the laws of what was true and what was not.

Did that make her a witch, or something else entirely?

Elizabeth watched the mirror. ‘Crack’, she thought, and a single long crack appeared. ‘Repair,’ and it smoothed out seamlessly.

The next few months settled Elizabeth into routine. She woke up at noon, lounged around, went for walks in the hallways, read until her eyes were stinging, and at night she would practice her magic in the bathroom until two or three in the morning.

She’d grown used to the staff. She’d gotten through every textbook Hogwarts had to offer— even the sixth and seventh year ones. It was strange to look forward to studying. But studying magic was totally unlike math or science of regular high school. Even the most boring and grueling subjects were fascinating to Elizabeth. She felt so greedy with the knowledge that even goblin revolutions and potions ingredients and their implications couldn’t deter her.

She began to understand Hermione’s devotion to revision. When an entirely new world of magic was exposed, it felt like she was fighting to keep up. Fighting to learn as much as she possibly could before it slipped out of her grasp.

Because it was a gift to be here, in a sense. A gift to be able to escape the wretched world of high school and mundane “muggle” subjects.

It was strange to consider herself a witch. But it was even stranger to learn what her newfound abilities had to offer.

It was sort of a revolutionary concept. That Elizabeth’s magic was not of this world. Or any world of that matter.

She had yet to find a limit. Like a ball being thrown into space. Ever moving forward with no friction or gravity to stop it.

If she was truly limitless and boundless, then that would make her the most powerful witch in this world. The most powerful being in this world.

For some reason, that thought did not scare her. It elated her. She was drowning in it.

Mrs. Malfoy visited her every Thursday. Their relationship was strained, that much was blatantly obvious. She often said some things to Elizabeth that were not kind or favorable. She could tell the deep-seated resentment Mrs. Malfoy harbored for her sister bled into whatever this newfound relationship was.

And yet, she still came every Thursday. Sent Elizabeth letters here and there as well.

Mrs. Malfoy was growing even more tired of the St. Mungo’s staff than Elizabeth was.

“It’s been two months and they still insist on you remaining here. Any nitwit could see that you’re perfectly healthy and functional.”

Perfectly healthy was an overstatement. With the little sleep she got, Elizabeth had become plagued by hideous nightmares of Aliena’s past. A sort of post traumatic stress that felt alien because, well, it didn’t really belong to Elizabeth.

The healers had noticed and grown concerned about Elizabeth's depersonalization. They clearly thought something had snapped in her mind, but couldn’t quite prove anything beyond Elizabeth’s perfectly normal behaviors and personality.

“She should be showing more signs of trauma or… connection to the memories. It’s like a part of herself is removed. It isn’t safe or healthy.”

Elizabeth eavesdropped once on one of the healers speaking to her aunt.

“She’s perfectly healthy and capable of remembering. This is outrageous. I could have this entire institution defunded, I hope you realize.”

Mrs. Malfoy behaved absolutely hideously to the staff.

“We could not in good conscience allow Aliena to return to society knowing that her recovery is so questionable. If she has removed herself mentally from her trauma then it would only be a matter of time before it catches up with her, which could be especially dangerous given her unstable magic.”

Elizabeth stopped listening after that.

She’d undergone so many tests she’d lost count. Every day she spoke with a psychological healer who didn’t seem to like her airy and aloof responses.

Elizabeth had done well to conceal her abilities from others. She never practiced magic at all in front of witnesses, and had found that she could manipulate the tests to show perfectly average capabilities. The only thing they had managed to find was her instability and lack of control.

It seemed that wasn’t enough for them. They more-so cared about her mental stability than innate abilities.

“Perhaps they’re waiting for me to explode.” Elizabeth commented humorously. ”Maybe if I have a mental breakdown they’ll be sufficiently satisfied.” Elizabeth often thought about how strange it was she spoke in a british accent so naturally. Sometimes she had practiced her old American accent, but it felt foreign and wrong.

”Perhaps start speaking to yourself, or explode a vase. They’ll be sure to discharge you after that.” Mrs. Malfoy said sarcastically. It was unusual for her to indulge Elizabeth in jokes.

“Did something good happen?” Elizabeth asked. Mrs. Malfoy messed with the flower arrangement she’d brought that day. Each week she brought Elizabeth a fresh bouquet of flowers, which surprised Elizabeth since Mrs. Malfoy wasn’t one for kindness or endearment. At first she thought it was a formality, but she eventually recognized that it seemed to be more of an effort to try and get closer to Elizabeth than anything. Mrs. Malfoy wanted Elizabeth to like her.

Why? Elizabeth couldn’t decipher.

“My husband- your uncle- just recently got a promotion.”

Elizabeth raised a brow.

“His accomplishments please you so much?”

”It came with a generous raise.” Mrs. Malfoy answered, as if this was reason enough.

”You have plenty of money.” Elizabeth countered.

Mrs. Malfoy huffed, her mood turning sour. ”And there is nothing wrong with more is there?” Elizabeth wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t push the subject further.

It seemed Mrs. Malfoy was full of surprises, because she continued. ”I’ve managed to hire a proper governess upon your return. You wouldn’t believe how inept governesses are these days. I was beginning to lose hope in finding anyone suitable enough, but Abraxas’ old governess agreed to come out of retirement for your sake.”

“A governess?” Elizabeth asked in astonishment.

”Yes. It’s become painfully aware to me that your mother did an insufficient job of bringing you up as a proper pureblooded lady. You’re already fifteen and hardly know any of the established manners you should have learned in childhood.”

”You intend to make me into a lady?” The absurdity of it was astounding.

”Of course. You are my charge now. If you are to debut in society then you must—,”

”Debut!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Do not interrupt me while I am speaking.” Her tone was scathing and Elizabeth shut her mouth. Aunt Belphia continued.

“It is only proper for you to debut. Now that you are a member of the Malfoy household you must grow to be accomplished and suitable for marriage.”

”Marriage?! I’m just fifteen!”

”And fifteen is far too late to start. Mrs. Mollin will have her work cut out for her.”

Elizabeth wrung her hands with the sheets. “I- I want to choose who I marry.” She said.

Belphia looked up at Elizabeth and sucked in a breath. She then released something, and somewhat deflated. ”Of course, if you’re anything like your mother- which you are- I knew you would desire such things. Although it is not traditional, times have somewhat changed. I’ve had a word with Brutus and he has agreed to allow you to select your husband. But do not delude yourself into thinking Brutus or I will approve of anyone less than exemplary.”

”Or pureblood.” Elizabeth added bitterly. From what she’d heard about Brutus Malfoy was that he was just that— a brute. He hadn’t even visited her once.

Aunt Belphia nodded strictly. ”Of course.”

”I’m not— I don’t even want to consider marriage until I’m well into my twenties.”

”Then you shall have plenty of time to find a match…” she hesitated, “You know twenty is quite… late to be married, Aliena.” She sounded skeptical.

”I should like a career.” In truth, Elizabeth didn’t really care for a career, but she thought that maybe if she said she did it would allow her to stall Mrs. Malfoy’s plans of marriage.

”A career?!”

”Is that so wrong?”

”It is your duty to continue the line—,” Belphia started.

“What line? I’m not a Malfoy.” Aunt Belphia bristled and then smoothed her skirts.

”I know. But you are still a Greengrass. Your family is one of the sacred twenty eight. It is our responsibility as your guardians to ensure you follow your duties.”

Elizabeth could see she was fighting a losing battle. If she wanted to, at the very least, endure her time under their care, she couldn’t fight them on this. Besides, they couldn’t make her do anything. And hopefully by the time they tried she would be out of their care.

“I can have a career and still get married.” She compromised. Belphia raised her eyebrow at this but did not push the subject. Elizabeth felt relieved when they moved on to simpler areas of discussion.

”Anyhow, your studies will have to be accelerated. I’m sure you are quite capable given your-,” she gestured to the stacks of books around the room, “- inclination to studies.”

”What sorts of things will I learn?” Elizabeth asked curiously. In truth, she wasn’t opposed to finishing lessons. In fact, maybe they could be fun. Learning to dance and sew and whatever else pureblooded ladies were expected to do. Aunt Belphia seemed pleased at her interest.

“Well, mostly practical things. How to run a house, manage finances, some basic cleaning and healing.” She said.

Elizabeth deflated. Finances?

”Of course, you’ll need some serious lessons on manners and grace. Dancing, art, food, wine, music, politics.”

Elizabeth perked up at the word 'wine'.

”It is vital that a woman raised under my roof be well-versed in what the difference between good and poor taste are.” Aunt Belphia claimed. “Has the school notified you when your O.W.L. exams will be taking place? If you need a private tutor I can have one sent immediately. It would also be good to begin your finishing lessons as soon as possible, but I do not know how long they intend to keep you trapped in this putrid place.”

“I can read some books on it if you bring them to me. And Dumbledore has been helping me quite a bit. He’s been sending me books and study plans.” Belphia bristled and didn’t even bother trying to hide her scornful expression, but did not express her opinion of him vocally. She didn’t need to. It was obvious she disliked Dumbledore.

“It would still be valuable to try some hands-on work. Reading a textbook may allow you to pass your written exams, but you would fall behind if you do not begin some practical lessons.” Elizabeth considered this. She didn’t have to consider long. Of course she wanted to practice magic.

But…

”I… don’t have a wand.” Aunt Belphia looked taken aback. She shook her head.

“Of course. That is an oversight on my part. I will take you to Diagon Alley next week. You’ll be needing some essentials anyhow.” Elizabeth beamed. Diagon Alley! She’d been to theme parks mimicking the place, but the idea of actually being there was almost overwhelming.

“Stand up. I’ll need to take your measurements and have some robes made. You couldn’t possibly be seen in public in those.. hideous clothes.” She said.

The hospital clothes weren’t hideous. Just a white long sleeve shirt and white slacks. But, Elizabeth supposed, for a woman who always came in wearing gorgeous robes and outfits dripping in elegance, they must look dreadful.

Elizabeth stood and watched as Aunt Belphia took out her wand. Long, white, and elegantly designed. It suited her perfectly.

She waved it in the air and muttered an incantation under her breath. A measuring tape appeared out of thin air and began floating around Elizabeth, taking measurements. Belphia read each one and wrote them down with a peacock quill on a small black notebook. At the end she snapped the book shut and tucked it and the quill away in her robes.

”I’ll see you Monday morning. And do try to do… something about your appearance. You look a bit… strung out.”

When Aunt Belphia left, Elizabeth gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror. She did look strung out, but what exactly was she supposed to do about that? She was in an asylum.

Elizabeth had managed to convince her nurse to let her out of the prison that was the fourth floor. There were gardens at St. Mungo’s— she could see them from her window. But she had never previously been allowed to walk through them. Elizabeth may as well actually be going crazy from not being allowed outside.

That Saturday, Elizabeth finally let the sun hit her face and wind blow through her hair. She was very lucky that she had somehow convinced her nurse to let her out on a rare sunny day. It was still cold and she was wrapped in thick white robes, but the feeling of being outside was like no other. Still, she stuck out against the grey robes of the nurses or different-colored ones of visitors.

Elizabeth didn’t know if this garden was magical, but the plants were beautiful anyhow. It may as well have been Kensington Gardens despite how cold and windy it was.

Elizabeth made a habit of running forward from her chaperone and hiding amongst the shrubbery and statues. She had found a golden statue of Artemis bathing in a fountain and was sitting by the edge and touching her hand into the freezing waters when she heard a camera shutter and saw a white flash.

Elizabeth looked up in shock, looking around for the source. A man in full suit with grey robes and a bowler hat looked up from the scope and smiled at her. It was simultaneously both a slimy and weak smile.

A shout entered the scene, and the man ran away with Elizabeth’s nurse hot on his heels, yelling with a thick cockney accent. When she returned, huffing and puffing and hideously angry, she barked at Elizabeth to never run off again and delivered the terrible news that they had to cut their time short and go back inside. No amount of protesting had any effect and when they reached her room Elizabeth huffed and fell onto the bed.

What, so a random creep got to ruin her one chance at freedom and sunshine? She grumbled about how fresh air and sunlight was healthy for recovering patients for the rest of the day.

Tom hated Valentine’s Day. Each year it was the same. In the weeks leading up to this wretched holiday, flocks of girls would all of a sudden approach him more in the halls and during classes and at meals. They would smile and giggle more. Try and catch his eye. Ask him ridiculous questions. Even sidle up to his roommates to try and squeeze their way closer to him.

Each year got worse and worse. Fifth year was no exception. This was especially inconvenient, as he couldn’t slip away to the Chamber of Secrets as easily as before.

Tom did well at ignoring and diverting. He was talented at avoiding. He was proficient at keeping his calm mask and kind smiles and charming his way out of things. When he was confessed to or asked on dates, he would empathetically express his sorrow and politely decline with all the manners of a young prince.

He had just slipped out of another one of these mind-numbing experiences when he passed a group of gaggling second years to his regular spot at the Slytherin table.

The boys already seated there shifted and straightened. Ever since his reveal that he was the heir of Slytherin, a newfound respect had shifted each of their perspectives. No longer was he a nameless nobody. No longer did he have to scrape and claw at the pedestals of purebloods. He was lifted above all of them. A god amongst mere mortals.

Before, he had to use force or manipulation.

Now, he found little need for such things. His namesake itself was worth more than any threat or demonstration. The knowledge that the very person writing threats in blood on the walls, terrifying muggleborns was Tom was enough to make his followers docile as lambs.

“I shall ruin this damned holiday,” he muttered under his breath to his followers, who leaned in close to listen.

“Already? When-,” Marius Avery started, fear palpable in his puny voice.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re planning something on Valentines Day. I have a date with Jessica Splink.” Justus Rosier complained.

“That dirty halfblood?” said Rodrick Lestrange.

“She’s got a couple of redeemable qualities,” Rosier said deviously, holding his two squeezing hands up to cup invisible large breasts.

”Five galleons says she gives it up after one date,” Black interjected with a similar smirk.

Before they could continue their childish tirades, Malfoy interjected by slapping down the Daily Prophet in the center of the table and taking a seat next to Tom.

”My mother is going to blow a gasket.” He commented in despair.

Every pair of eyes lasered in on the front page’s photograph and headline.

Greengrass Heiress Remains in Recovery at St. Mungo’s sprawled across the page in bold letters.

The photograph was much more interesting.

Tom tilted the paper to face him and leaned forward, all their heads just about touching. A young woman sat at the edge of a sparkling fountain. Sunlight shone through her white blonde hair, illuminating it like a halo. Her skin was pale and supple. She touched her hand into the water like a nymph. Or goddess. She looked up in surprise. Her eyes met the camera’s gaze. Grey. The same eyes of that child in a photograph from months ago. Except this time, they looked light and spacy and confused. She wore all white, which suited such an ivory picture— the very likeness of an angel.

Tom had seen similar depictions in museums and churches around London.

”Oh Merlin, whose that,” Lestrange said greedily.

”I call her,” Rosier immediately said.

Lestrange punched his arm. “No way, I call her.”

Abraxas snatched up the paper in offense. “That’s my cousin.”

”Ahh so little Braxy gets dibs,” Black said cheekily. Abraxas elbowed him in the ribs hard, but Black only laughed heartily.

“Not everyone wants to marry their cousins, Black.” Malfoy said viciously.

”Oh but you do,” Black countered, and Abraxas’ face lit up red and his fist crumpled the paper.

Tom sat back and watched them in exasperation. While he detested this sort of behavior, he couldn’t deny their desires. He had to remind himself they were only human.

Their carnal inclinations were just like that of any hormonal teen. Though, those desires hadn’t gotten the best of him yet, and they certainly never would. She was just another girl, like any other. Silly and easy. Tom had all of the prettiest girls wrapped around his finger. He had never been interested in actually taking any of them out, much less conquering them in the ways that his friends liked to imagine aloud in grotesque detail.

But he did take great relish in his friends having to ask his permission to take out the girls who were so obsessed with him. Often times, they were so enamoured with Tom that he had to direct the girls in his friend’s desired direction. Even Jessica Splink needed Tom to put the idea into her head that going on a date with Rosier was a good idea.

This was perfect for rewards and punishments. And he did well to remind them of that.

Though, he had no need for this now. All he wanted was to ruin this damned holiday for all it was worth. And the bickering over a picture of a girl they had never met was just another bitter reminder.

That night only solidified Tom’s resolve. The boys had each gotten their hands on copies of the article by the end of the day and were taking turns describing what they would do to the girl if they 'just had their chance', and reading aloud the poorly-written article’s contents.

"Listen to this," Rosier said, clearing his throat dramatically. "'The Greengrass heiress, Aliena, was spotted in the gardens of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries this past Saturday. Sources say she has been recovering from a traumatic incident for several months now. The nature of her ailment remains undisclosed, but speculation remains to uncover the truth.'"

Lestrange snorted. "Traumatic incident? More like she's gone barmy. Why else would they keep her locked up for so long?"

"Shut it," Abraxas snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Tom observed the exchange with cold detachment. Their petty squabbles over a girl they'd never met were beneath him. Yet, he couldn't help but be intrigued by the mystery surrounding this Aliena Greengrass. Why was she in St. Mungo's? She didn’t look injured in the photograph.

Black decided to step in with his own rendition of an obnoxious narrator’s voice. “’The Greengrass tragedy has sent shockwaves through pureblood society, with many questioning how such a prominent family could fall victim to such a heinous act. Speculation runs rampant about possible motives, from dark wizard activity to long-standing blood feuds.’ I mean, what rubbish! How dare they make such claims? As if one poor orphan has any effect on us.”

Poor orphan indeed, Tom thought.

“Now I’ll have a damn loon living under my roof. Hopefully they keep her in that hospital forever.” Abraxas said.

“Maybe that 'damn loon' will be so distraught she won’t know where to put her bum at night,” Rosier jeered.

Abraxas rolled his eyes, but secretly tucked the article into his side table drawer. Tom raised a brow and made no comment on it. He never did endear in these useless tirades.

“Who cares anyway? It’s not like she’d be allowed at Hogwarts,” Avery said. He was already dressed in his nightclothes and sick of the subject.

“You have no imagination, Marius. None at all.” Black commented.

“Why wouldn’t she be allowed at Hogwarts? It’s not as if she actually is mad.” Abraxas asked.

“That remains to be seen, my dear fellow.” Lestrange clapped him on the back.

Remains to be seen. Tom doubted it.

Chapter Text

The trip to Diagon Alley was cancelled. Instead of being pleasantly whisked away for an afternoon of liberty, Mrs. Malfoy had gotten into a screaming match with the staff and was forcibly escorted off the premises.

Elizabeth could garner why easily. Their voices weren’t exactly discrete. ”On the front page of the Prophet! What sort of industry are you running here? My niece has been nonconsensually dragged into a scheme to garner her more attention that she does not need nor want! No! I will not, lower my voice!”

Of course, that ended well. Elizabeth sat at the window and sighed.

It was another month before Mrs. Malfoy was even allowed to visit again. And another month after that in which she was allowed to take Elizabeth out to Diagon Alley.

They clearly wanted her to go crazy, and it was certainly working. With only letters and other crazy people for company, Elizabeth felt she may snap at any second.

Thankfully other than reading endless books— both magical and muggle— Elizabeth had managed to accomplish some things. One of them being memorising the incantations and spellwork she was supposed to know for her exams. All she needed now was a wand to perform them. She’d also managed to put on a bit of healthy weight. Her robes fit well-- she was no longer scarily thin or gaunt in the face.

The robes Belphia had gifted her were made of expensive light blue fabric that Elizabeth couldn’t identify. They came in layers as well, and she had to figure out how to put them on through lengthy trial and error.

The undergarments were simple enough. Silk and white. A bra and what looked like high waisted shorts with a thin corset to go over them. She laced it up tightly. For some reason, she quite liked the feeling of a corset— it comforted her. Like a hug. She laughed at the thought and continued. The rest was where she got lost.

A white dress underneath, she realized, that reached her mid-shin. Then, over it a blue and white tunic with little beaded stars embroidered and silver buttons all the way up. A white neck scarf. Finally, the powder blue robes operated more like a dress that had an attached cape. They began at the shoulders and billowed out in both chiffon and wool. She buttoned up the bodice and looked at herself in the mirror.

Wow. A real wizard. If she walked out into muggle london wearing this she'd probably get a few stares. She stepped out from the bathroom. Mrs. Malfoy appraised her.

“You forgot the stockings,” she commented. Looking back, Elizabeth noticed the two silk stockings that must have fallen onto the floor. She picked them up and slipped each of them on, but they came with two blue ribbons. ”Are these for my hair?” She asked skeptically.

Mrs. Malfoy scoffed. “They’re garters.”

Oh. Elizabeth lifted her skirts and tied them around the tops of the stockings. Mrs. Malfoy tutted and folded the spare fabric back over the ribbons. A pair of heeled embroidered boots sat in front of her. She slipped them on.

Mrs. Malfoy fussed for a few minutes, straightening and smoothing the fabric. She withtook a beautiful brooch and pinned it on her chest at her left shoulder. Elizabeth looked down at it. An ornate silver snake with glittering sapphire eyes.

“A gift,” she said. Elizabeth took note of an almost identical one on Mrs. Malfoy's robes, with emerald eyes. Elizabeth smiled.

“It’s beautiful.” Elizabeth said softly. Mrs. Malfoy gave her a rare soft smile.

Her Aunt’s ensemble was similar to her's but more mature. The robes were longer and the color of a deep navy blue.

“Sit here,” She said, taking the back of the chair in her hands. Elizabeth did. Mrs. Malfoy retrieved her wand and began muttering enchantments Elizabeth had never heard of. Her hair began to float and move about behind her head. By the time she was done, she was wearing it half-up in an elaborate braided style.

”Do I get to wear makeup?” She asked hopefully.

Mrs. Malfoy slapped the back of Elizabeth’s hand. ”You may only wear rouge when you have debuted.”

Elizabeth sighed, hopes deflating. She didn’t quite know all the rules of society, but not being able to wear makeup was certainly annoying.

“I used to pinch my cheeks.” Mrs. Malfoy added. Elizabeth smiled and did so, and then went to the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t even recognize the girl in front of her. She looked much brighter and happier than the one from only an hour ago.

It was strange adjusting to this body. Elizabeth thought she would never get used to it, but after the first month she had begun to know what to expect from her reflection. What was worse is that after three months, she realized she was starting to forget what she used to look like. It scared her.

She turned away and began to follow Mrs. Malfoy out, but she handed her a hat. ”A witch hat!” She exclaimed.

Mrs. Malfoy now wore a similar one on her head, but it a bit larger. “Of course.” Mrs. Malfoy said, scoffing. She put the sapphire-colored hat on Elizabeth’s head, took the thick ribbon, and tied it around her chin like a bonnet.

“There.” she finally said, satisfied. Elizabeth stepped out of the room and could feel the gazes piercing into her from all sides.

Mrs. Malfoy caught Elizabeth shrinking into herself and lightly tapped her chin up.

Right. She read about that in one of the books Belphia had gotten Elizabeth titled ‘The Witches Book of Elegance’. Stand tall with chin high. So this entire outing was going to be a lesson in and of itself. Elizabeth should have known. She stood up straighter and lifted her chin, trying to mimic the confident and elegant way Mrs. Malfoy walked.

Arriving to Diagon Alley was almost surreal. They didn’t simply apparate in, but into an alleyway across the street from the Leaky Cauldron. Elizabeth gazed up at the creaking slanted sign.

She remembered that night.

She glanced down at the curb. Elizabeth could almost feel the resonating crack of her head hitting the concrete when she slipped. A chill ran down her spine. But Mrs. Malfoy’s pace was quick, and Elizabeth shook her head to banish those thoughts and kept moving.

The pub’s interior was run down and old, with high ceilings and hanging iron chandeliers. Wizards milled about at the bar and tables, but it seemed quite dead for the time of day. Mrs. Malfoy didn’t even acknowledge the bartender and simply moved through the pub toward the secluded back door. It was a tiny outdoor space with crates of bottles and overflowing trash bins.

In another world she could see a dish-washer coming out here for a smoke or to take out the trash. But there was that infamous brick wall, which Mrs. Malfoy tapped with her wand. The bricks shifted and moved into a great arch.

The noise was boisterous and loud. The narrow, cobblestone street buzzed with life, lined with crooked buildings that leaned over toward one other. Brightly colored shop fronts spilled over with strange and wonderful objects: glittering potion bottles stacked in windows, enchanted quills scribbling on their own, and cauldrons bubbling with unknown brews. The air hummed with magic, carrying the scent of parchment, roasted chestnuts, and something unidentifiably sweet. Wizards and witches bustled around with packages. Wealthy folks patted their pockets. Mothers haggled with shop owners. Rugged men carried animals in crates and cages over their shoulders.

Elizabeth had to pause to take it in. For a moment, Mrs. Malfoy didn’t notice she was no longer being followed and then turned to look back at Elizabeth with an open mouth ready to scold. At the look on Elizabeth’s face, though, she stopped in her tracks.

Mrs. Malfoy turned back to the street again, as if taking it in again in a new light. She smiled briefly and then met with Elizabeth gaping in the street. ”It’s your first time here, is it not?”

Elizabeth shut her open mouth and nodded slowly, watching a strange woman walk by with color-changing robes and smelling of roses.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” Aunt Belphia said.

Elizabeth grinned up at her. ”It’s brilliant.”

Aunt Belphia looked back up at the street. She nodded once with a wistful smile. “It is.”

If there was one thing Mrs. Malfoy did well it was shopping. She knew the best places to go. She was efficient and tasteful. She knew what was a good deal and what was a poor deal. She haggled with the shopkeepers, and certainly did not shy away from any expense.

“Shouldn’t I go to Gringotts?” Elizabeth asked.

“Why so?” Mrs. Malfoy responded.

“I don’t have any money.”

Aunt Belphia scoffed. “You’re my charge. You have plenty of money.”

And that was that.

Elizabeth almost wished she could take notes. Just watching her aunt shop was like watching an expert painter create a masterpiece. ”Silk is nothing if not imported from China. Anything else is a cheap imitation. And always check the seams right here. If the fabric is only single stitched then it’s not worth your money.”

She was firing off so many important tidbits of fashion knowledge that Elizabeth could hardly keep up. Mrs. Malfoy was holding up a set of expensive green robes to Elizabeth’s figure when a woman had the gall the approach them.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding but are you—?” The woman started, looking eagerly at Elizabeth.

”You are intruding. Please excuse us.” Mrs. Malfoy said sharply. Elizabeth hoped to never be on the receiving end of that tone. The woman balked and made a swift, embarrassed exit.

“You didn’t have to be so rude.” Elizabeth commented.

“I did. They’re like dogs. If I’m not firm, their insolence will know know bounds.”

”You didn’t even know what she wanted,” Elizabeth reasoned.

”You clearly haven’t been reading the Daily Prophet. You’ve been the subject of gossip for months.”

”Oh.” And that was that.

After a good hour of buying more clothes than Elizabeth knew what to do with, they finally finished shopping for robes. Each order had been custom fitted and set to mail directly to Malfoy Manor. After standing on that pedestal for them to finally finish her Hogwarts uniform, Elizabeth felt like cheering that it was all over.

“Now, since Dumbledore has done you the honor of sending you every textbook under the sun, we can skip Flourish and Blotts and—,” Mrs. Malfoy started.

“Wait! I want to look—,” Elizabeth protested, but Mrs. Malfoy grabbed her by the arm and steered her away toward the potions shop.

”You’ve done plenty of reading. You’ll have more work cut out for you soon enough.”

Elizabeth groaned, but that scathing look sent her back pin-straight and mouth shut.

After purchasing the latest top-of-the-line potions set, a cauldron, vials, a brass scale, and telescope, they moved on to prettier shops that had strange devices Elizabeth marveled at. Mrs. Malfoy bought some more brooches and jewelry. Elizabeth got nauseous looking at the price tag. All of the supplies were to be sent to the Malfoy residence, so at the very least they weren’t carrying round any parcels or packages.

“I’ve already had some other things ordered. Tell me, how do you want your room decorated? I was thinking something of the french style but…,” Mrs. Malfoy was deep in thought.

“Whatever you think is best, I really don’t mind. But...,” Elizabeth paused, “something light and refreshing. Not green, either.” 

Mrs. Malfoy nodded. As they walked past quidditch supplies Elizabeth took notice of the broom in the window. A Cleansweep 7. Elizabeth smiled. Far cry from a firebolt, she thought.

“Hmm,” Mrs. Malfoy looked thoughtfully. ”Abraxas needs a new broom. The one he has is already a year old.”

Only one year old and he was already due for another? Elizabeth bit her tongue to keep from scoffing. Abraxas must be dreadfully spoiled.

They stepped into the shop. While Aunt Belphia was making the purchase at the front, Elizabeth watched a display of a mini quidditch pitch. The miniature broom models zipped and zoomed around one another. She thought about whether or not she should try and learn to fly. She could picture herself sitting on the back of a broomstick in the middle of the air and smiled. She actually did like heights, which was contrary to many people's fears. She’d always thought them to be quite exhilarating. But she also didn’t fancy any sort of contact sport, and decided Quidditch wasn’t for her.

As they exited the shop Elizabeth asked, “Is Abraxas on the quidditch team?”

Mrs. Malfoy nodded, but Elizabeth caught the look of pride in her eyes. ”He has been since his third year. He’s quite the athlete.”

”Mmm.” Elizabeth hummed. She didn’t care to press the subject.

And then they were standing in front of Ollivanders. And Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to move.

It felt like an anvil crushing her from above. How had she not been nervous before? Because now, she was shaking.

Mrs. Malfoy gave her a strange look. ”It’s perfectly alright. The Ollivander family are the best wandmakers in Great Britain. I’m sure your old wand will pale in comparison to your new one.” It was tactless (like many things she said), but Mrs. Malfoy was all too often unaware of her own insensitivity.

Besides, that wasn’t what bothered her. What if none of them work? What if they tell me I’m really not a witch? What if they turn me away and tell me they—

“Your mother and I got our wands here.” Mrs. Malfoy added.

Elizabeth was sucked from her thoughts and looked up at the woman.

She was looking wistfully up at the building. ”Total opposites, of course.” she said with a short laugh, and looked back to Elizabeth. ”Come, Aliena.”

And Elizabeth followed.

The shop was dimly lit and covered from floor to ceiling in rows and rows of small boxes. They slanted and towered over, and looked as if one brush would tip over an entire shelf. It smelt strange and heavy, and Elizabeth got goosebumps. Magic. This was the feeling of magic.

Mrs. Malfoy pressed the little bell at the front desk. A bang sounded in the back. A few moments later a young man appeared. He looked to be in his thirties, and had wild blonde hair that was out of place. His features were slender and pale, but his skin was flush and healthy. Those eyes were alight— a silvery blue almost the same as Elizabeth’s.

”Ah! Belphia Malfoy. Lovely to see you. How’s your wand? Ash wood, unicorn hair, 10 inches if I recall.”

“Quite well,” she commented, placing it on the desk. He inspected it carefully and nodded and then placed it back down for Mrs. Malfoy to take. He seemed to just notice Elizabeth. He took her in with surprise. Then his expression brightened.

”Ah! Aliena Greengrass! Yes, yes. I’ve been wondering when you would come. How wonderful it is to meet you, darling girl,” he said and shook her hand enthusiastically.

This, apparently, was in poor taste, because Mrs. Malfoy soured.

”Ah!” he exclaimed and instead placed a small kiss on Elizabeth’s knuckle. One of the many intricacies of high society-- women did not shake hands. Men were supposed to kiss them, just like in Victorian times.

Elizabeth smiled. ”It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Ollivander," she said this with all the grace and posture to appease Mrs. Malfoy, who seemed to settle well at Elizabeth’s exemplary manners.

“Now, I remember your mother quite well. Quite well. It’s a shame she’s passed. Quite the shame. I am very sorry for your loss.” Elizabeth was growing tired of hearing condolences, but nodded and thanked him with all the charm of the lady she pretended to be.

“Hawthorn, I believe. Yes, Hawthorn, seven inches, Dragon Heartstring core. Lovely wand.”

Elizabeth stood, waiting as a tape measure appeared and began to measure her dutifully. She tried not to sneeze when it measured her nose.

”Hmmm,” he mused, lifting her arm and inspecting her form. It was clearly professional, but Elizabeth still shifted under the weight of his scrutiny.

“Right then. Right.”

And then it started. A tirade of wands. With the first one, Elizabeth was, for a moment, quite scared it wouldn’t work at all. To her relief an entire shelf of wands flew out of their place into a heap on the floor. Elizabeth placed it back on the counter, and Ollivander laughed delightedly and waved his own wand to fix the mess.

“You must have quite the magical ability,” he said cheerily before returning to the back for more options.

Five broken vases, a knotted up chandelier, and one rug swiping away from underneath Elizabeth later, Ollivander was growing more and more excited. Clearly this did not deter him in the slightest.

“Ahh, very strange. Not like your mother are you, hm? Nor your aunt, or even your father! Very curious to be sure.”

Elizabeth was ready to walk out of the shop. Mrs. Malfoy had already left to go do some more “individual shopping” and had left Elizabeth to wallow in her own fears of disappointment. It was true. She wasn’t going to find a wand. Two hours and it was hopeless.

Finally, Elizabeth picked up another wand from yet another box. This time nothing exploded. She waved it.

A shimmering yellow stream of light emitted from the tip and whirled around her, circling down her body in a twisting cage of light. Elizabeth gasped and the wand thrummed in her hand. Warm and steady.

“Ah! Wonderful! Wonderful! Dragon heartstring core, 14 inches, solid flexibility, Hornbeam wood. How marvelous!” He seemed almost more excited than Elizabeth was. Almost.

Elizabeth waved it again, and the light disappeared with a shimmer.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t have payment,” she started, looking around and out the window for Aunt Belphia.

”Oh it’s perfectly alright, Miss Greengrass. Your aunt took care of that in advance.”

”In advance?” She asked.

He chuckled, “Yes, I daresay she paid me a few months ago. I’d been beginning to wonder what had taken you so long to come into my shop.” he remarked with a laugh.

Elizabeth blushed. “Right. Right of course, I apologize. Thank you, Mr. Ollivander.”

”Of course, of course my dear girl.”

Elizabeth bid him farewell and exited the shop, still buzzing from the excitement.

Elizabeth stepped out onto the bustling street of Diagon Alley, her new wand securely tucked away in her robes. The excitement of finally having her own wand thrummed through her veins. She was really a wizard now. Really, truly one of them. 

She scanned the crowd, looking for Mrs. Malfoy's distinctive figure. Elizabeth wasn't sure where to find her. Should she wait outside Ollivander's? Or perhaps venture out to look for her aunt?

As she pondered her next move, a familiar voice caught her attention.

"Aliena! There you are, dear." Mrs. Malfoy appeared from the crowd, a small package tucked under her arm. "I trust you've found your wand?"

Elizabeth nodded eagerly. "Yes, Aunt Belphia. It's hornbeam with a dragon heartstring core."

A flicker of surprise crossed Mrs. Malfoy's face before she schooled her features into a neutral expression. "Interesting. Not quite what I expected, but wands do choose the witch, after all."

Elizabeth’s eye caught on the package Mrs. Malfoy carried. "What's that?"

Mrs. Malfoy's lips curved into a small smile. "A surprise for later. Now, I believe we have one last stop before we head home."

They made their way through the crowded street, Elizabeth's eyes darting from shop to shop, trying to guess their destination. Finally, they stopped in front of Magical Menagerie, its windows filled with cages of various magical creatures.

"Every proper witch needs an owl," Mrs. Malfoy explained as they entered the shop. The air inside was thick with the scent of animals and the cacophony of their various sounds. "Choose wisely. This creature will be your companion throughout your time at Hogwarts and beyond."

Elizabeth's heart raced as she looked around the shop. Cats of every color lounged in cages, owls hooted softly from their perches, and even a few toads croaked from glass terrariums. She walked the shop for a long while, gazing at the owls, but her eye caught on a small brown, white, and gray fluffy creature curled up in the corner of a cage. 

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to the animal.

The shopkeeper appeared at her side. "Ah, that's just a kitten, miss. Looks more like a ball of fluff, eh? Just got her in this morning, poor dear. Found her in a sewer.”

Elizabeth approached the cage, and the kitten lifted its head, fixing her with intelligent, blue eyes. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then, to everyone's surprise, the creature stood, stretched, and moved to the front of the cage, pressing its nose against Elizabeth's outstretched finger.

Mrs. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "An owl is certainly more useful than a cat, Aliena. Come, there are some-,”

“It’s cute.” Elizabeth said simply.

“But-,” Mrs. Malfoy started.

“I want this one.”

As they left the shop, Elizabeth cradling her new companion in her arms, she felt a sense of completeness wash over her. She had wand of her own, and a cat. It was all too surreal to be possible. 

"What will you name it?" Mrs. Malfoy asked as they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron. She clearly sounded displeased with Elizabeth’s choice.

Elizabeth looked down at the kitten, who was contentedly purring against her chest. A name came to her, though she wasn't sure why. "Artemis," she said softly. "I think I'll call her Artemis."

Mrs. Malfoy nodded approvingly. "A fine name. Now, let's head home. We have much to prepare before you leave for Hogwarts."

As they stepped out of Diagon Alley and back into the Muggle world, Elizabeth felt suddenly nervous.

Hogwarts loomed in her future. There were endless possibilities. What if she screwed it up? What if she did horrible in her classes? What if she kept getting lost? Worse, what if she encountered the same sort of danger the golden trio had during their time at Hogwarts?

But with her wand in her pocket and Artemis in her arms, she felt slightly more brave.

“What do you mean she can't bring them in?!” Mrs. Malfoy demanded.

”Patients are not permitted animals or wands. You must—,”

”This is absolutely preposterous!”

So much for taking on challenges of the future. Elizabeth interjected before this could escalate further.

“It’s alright,” she said swiftly, handing the kitten to Mrs. Malfoy. She squirmed slightly but didn’t hiss or scratch. “I didn’t think they’d let me have them anyway.” Elizabeth handed the wand over. Her hand felt strangely cold without it.

“But-,” Mrs. Malfoy started. Elizabeth shook her head with an easy smile.

”I’ll see you later this week!”

She turned and entered the facility before her aunt could stop her.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth didn’t like Ms. Mollin, her governess. It only took five minutes for her to decide.

The woman was abrasive and cold. Elizabeth liked to think she could get along with virtually anyone. That she had that sort of ability to adapt and find common ground. 

Ms. Mollin was a prime example to prove Elizabeth wrong. 

The first thing Ms. Mollin did when they met was look her up and down, frown deeply, and then said, “Stand so that I may appraise you.” Her r’s rolled and voice sounded obnoxiously aristocratic— even beyond that of Mrs. Malfoy.  

She took a turn around Elizabeth and used a short cain that had been previously concealed to roughly slap Elizabeth’s back. 

“Stand up straight!” Ms. Mollin yelled. 

Elizabeth rubbed her shoulder and got slapped again. She yelled. 

“How dare you raise your voice!” Ms. Mollin countered, using the cain to roughly turn Elizabeth’s head toward her, the tip poking into Elizabeth’s cheek. 

Elizabeth only grew more and more wary of the woman. 

She started with the barest of foundations— learning to speak and sit and how to act. It felt elementary and stupid, but Elizabeth could do nothing but endure.

Endure, endure, endure, she reminded herself. I’ll get to go to Hogwarts soon. In September this will all be over. 

The lessons felt more like abuse. The first time Mrs. Malfoy came to visit after Ms. Mollin’s lessons began, she couldn’t conceal her disdain for the woman.

Mrs. Malfoy somehow found this amusing. 
”Abraxas hated her as well. Though, I daresay there is no finer person in all of Europe at chiseling youth than Ms. Mollin is.” 

Chiseling youth indeed. 
She certainly didn’t shy away from chiseling. 

After one whole month of healing her own bruises and scratches in the bathroom- Elizabeth had grown quite good at healing- Ms. Mollin seemed to find Elizabeth’s improvement sufficient enough to stop the abuse. 
Elizabeth had never before considered how lucky she was to come from a time and world where abusing children was considered morally wrong, but here in England during the 1940’s it was certainly not frowned upon to teach children using such methods. 

The results were, despite Elizabeth’s disdain, regretfully effective.

After one month of teachings even Elizabeth noticed her own changes in behavior. It wasn’t just the simple matter of how she spoke to others and her manners. Her learnings even displayed even when she was totally alone in her room. She sat straight, with fluid and deliberate movements. She had gained a sense of natural grace and elegance— Elizabeth caught this even doing simple actions such as lifting a spoon to her mouth or turning the page of a book. 

Sometimes she liked to deliberately be sloppy, or slouch on purpose, but when her mind inevitably wandered, once more she was back to the well-carved manners that Ms. Mollin instilled on her. 

During the second month of teachings Elizabeth grew more wary. How long did they truly intend to keep her trapped in this assylum? 

It wasn’t like how mental health institutions were in her time. No, this was like a dumping ground where patients were left to rot. Why did they insist on keeping her there? Her psychological ‘sessions’ had been reduced to once a week, and the magical testing had stopped completely. Was this a good or bad thing? 

While her teachings with Ms. Mollin had progressed onto more academic things, such as politics and finances, her visits with Mrs. Malfoy and letters exchanged with Dumbledore were the same as ever. 
Professor Dumbledore was elated to hear her academic pursuits were doing well and had even managed to convince St. Mungo’s to allow her to practice with her wand. 
Of course, Elizabeth didn’t really think she was using magic properly, but had at the very least memorized the proper spells so it would appear she was. 

“Abraxas won the quidditch cup,” Aunt Belphia said. She sounded very pleased with this news. 
Elizabeth didn’t care much, but she smiled for her aunt’s sake. “That’s wonderful.” 
”Yes, Brutus was very proud. Of course, his O.W.L exams are coming up very soon. Speaking of, tell me of your progress. Will you be sufficiently prepared?” 

“I’d take them right now if they’d let me.” Elizabeth responded, feeling quite proud of herself. Her own confidence wasn’t baseless, though. Her magical abilities were perhaps beyond the comprehension of anybody, even herself. 

“Good. You’ll have to take them in the Ministry of Magic of course. I unfortunately won’t be able to take you, though. Uncle Brutus will take you.” 
Elizabeth froze at this. She had been there for over five months and still had yet to meet her uncle. 

”Right,” was all Elizabeth said. 

Right. 

The next month continued and the days of her exams inevitably came. Despite the pressure Elizabeth didn’t find it in herself to be nervous in the slightest. 
She dressed that morning methodically. She had many sets of robes now from her aunt and chose a particularly plain pair. All black, but still with embellishments and in a classic style that screamed ‘I am richer and better than you in every way’. Of course, all of her robes seemed to scream that. 

A nurse brought her to the exit, and standing on the sidewalk was a tall man with long blonde hair tied back with a ribbon. He wore green and was checking an ornate silver pocket watch looking rather impatient. 

”Ah.” He said upon her arrival. "Aliena Greengrass.” 

Elizabeth put on her best smile. 

”Uncle Brutus. Aunt Belphia has told me much about you. I’m glad to finally meet you.” 

He nodded and held out his arm. Right. Ms. Mollin had taught her this. It was customary for women to be lead by men. She took his arm and followed him in a brisk walk. 

She couldn’t help but feel his discomfort. It was almost tangible in the air. 

”Are you prepared for your exams?” he finally ventured. She wondered if he knew how to converse with young people at all. 

”Yes.” Was all Elizabeth said. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Elizabeth noticed the subtile and almost indistinguishable relaxation of her uncle. 

Finally, they reached an empty dull alleyway and Elizabeth gasped as the horrible sucking squishing sensation of apparition caught her off guard. A moment later, Elizabeth breathed. 
Without even a second to gather herself or that nauseous feeling in her stomach, they were on their way once more. This time, they walked toward a red phone box on the side of the road. The streets were nearly barren, and Elizabeth caught sight of a large poster plastered on the side of a building. 

’Leave Hitler To Me Sonny— You Ought To Be Out Of London’ it read. An image of a soldier leaning down toward a young boy holding a little wooden sword. A shiver ran down Elizabeth’s spine.  

There were other posters everywhere, and Elizabeth held herself from gawking at the sight. 

”Muggle wars,” Mr. Malfoy muttered, “only grow nastier and nastier.” 

Elizabeth thought for a moment. 

”Are wizard wars not just as nasty?” She asked. 

He looked down at her and a moment of recognition passed. As if he'd just remembered her circumstances.
”Right so.” he said. 

They reached the cramped telephone booth and he turned the letters one by one, the circle returning back to place each time. 62442. The voice that sounded made Elizabeth jump. It was far too loud to be from the receiver. 

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“Brutus Malfoy, here to escort Aliena Greengrass to her O.W.L examinations.” 
The interior box made a lurch and hum and then began to descend. She watched as the sidewalk outside the window rose and disappeared up and up and up. Or rather as they descended down down down.

The Ministry of Magic was certainly something to behold. The vast atrium had high, vaulted ceiling with ornate designs decorating the walls and tile floors. As they lowered, a shimmering fountain display came into view at its center, surrounded by statues of magical creatures. Elizabeth could recognize centaurs, merfolk, unicorns. The soft, golden glow of enchanted chandeliers illuminated the marble floors and the rich wooden paneling that lines the walls.

As they walked through the hustle and bustle of the morning commute, portraits of past and present Ministry officials eyes followed Elizabeth with a sense of historical gravitas. The corridors were lined with notice boards and magical advertisements, detailing everything from new laws to job openings, but mostly consisted of propaganda posters from the ongoing war against Grindelwald.

Eyes of passersby caught on Elizabeth and Mr. Malfoy. He bristled in a similar way that Mrs. Malfoy did. A man with a camera dared to point the lense at Elizabeth and the camera flashed. Mr. Malfoy frowned and put his hand in front of the lense and pushed the man to the side, but they continued on. 

Owls swooped overhead, carrying notes in their beaks and papers or magazines. A boy stood in front of the fountain passing out the Daily Prophet in exchange for a few knuts. 

Mr. Malfoy took one and paid the boy, tucking the paper under his arm as they continued on. 

When they reached an elevator, despite the crowds of people waiting to get on, nobody dared to follow them and the doors shut swiftly.

“Hold on.” Mr. Malfoy said, almost too late. The elevator lurched backward just as Elizabeth grabbed hold of an overhead handle. 

It shot upward with vigor and she had to brace herself, almost falling to the floor. 
Mr. Malfoy opened the paper and began to read the front page leisurely. 
Elizabeth glanced at it, catching the headline from the corner of her eye. 

’Terror at Hogwarts: Are Our Children Safe?’ 
Mr. Malfoy was frowning deeply. 
”Whats going on at Hogwarts?” Elizabeth asked immediately. He folded the paper and returned it under his arm. 

“Nothing for you to be concerned of.” 
”But-,” 
”Don’t insert yourself where it doesn’t belong. I should think your lessons with Ms. Mollin would have taught you better.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips shut. The last thing she needed was for him to tell Ms. Mollin that her teachings were lacking. Great. 
The doors opened and they exited, Elizabeth wrapping her hand around her guardian’s arm again and falling into his long strides. She was certainly tall for a girl, but keeping up with him was still difficult. 

They finally stopped at a large black door with a golden plaque on the front that read ‘Department of Magical Education’. 

Inside, there was a large lobby with couches and planets and more portraits. A strict-looking secretary sat at an elevated counter, writing with a fancy quill. 

“Aliena Greengrass.” Mr. Malfoy said. 
The secretary didn’t even look up, and the door on the right opened up. 

”I’ll retrieve you at lunch,” was all Mr. Malfoy said before retreating the way they came. 

Elizabeth paused, looked at the secretary, and entered the room. 

-

Her exams took two weeks. 

They were excruciatingly boring, but each time she had opened the parchments of papers to read and answer the questions she found herself satisfied in a way she'd never been before during exams. 
There weren’t very many questions she couldn’t answer, and the ones she didn’t know she did well at pretending she did. 
She used to call it, ‘bullshitting’ an answer. But this was more like making things up altogether. 

Each long day she had a break for lunch and ate silently in her Uncle’s company. She’d never gotten any information out of either him or Mrs. Malfoy about whatever was going on at Hogwarts. Instead, she was met with either cold silence or a strict redirection. 

She could guess, though. 
She didn’t know exactly what year it was that Tom Riddle terrorized the school and killed Moaning Myrtle, but she couldn’t imagine such a headline could be born from anything else. Her stomach sank at the thought. 

He was petrifying people. Writing ominous messages on the walls in blood. And killing an innocent student. Perhaps worst of all, he was making his first horcrux. How could she attend Hogwarts? She could never feel safe in his presence. She didn’t want to face him at all. Harry Potter could defeat him at seventeen years old, but Elizabeth Stewart didn’t want to be brought to his attention at all. If he discovered her secret- that she was from another world entirely- what would he do? Would he kill her? 
Even the thought of seeing him in passing made her heart stutter in fear and dread. 

The only person who did seem to give her any real answers was Dumbledore, but even those letters seemed restrained. 
He assured her the culprit would swiftly be caught. One sentence in particular made her blood run cold. 
’If you do not feel safe attending Hogwarts in the fall it would be perfectly understandable. As it is, if things continue the way they are then I am afraid the school may close indefinitely.’ 

The thought of never going to Hogwarts was horrifying.

She knew deep down that the school wouldn’t close. That Hagrid would be framed and Tom would escape scott-free. But what could she do? She certainly couldn’t warn Dumbledore— how could she explain that she "just knows" Tom Riddle is the heir of Slytherin. She had never even met Hagrid either, so trying to advocate for his innocence would get her nowhere. 

Besides, she reminded herself, Dumbledore did know Tom was the culprit. Maybe not yet, but deep down he suspected Tom from the start. He’d also repaired Hagrid’s wand and later took him on as Groundskeeper. 

So all she could do was sit back and try and get as many of the latest editions of the Daily Prophet as she could. 

It came as a shock when the first one she got her hands on had her face plastered on the front. 

It was of her in the Ministry of Magic, walking with Mr. Malfoy. The title read ‘Heiress Greengrass Taking her O.W.L. Exams at the Ministry of Magic: An Orphan Determined to Move Forward’ 

Elizabeth frowned and read the first lines of the article. It was somewhere between the words ‘…tragic war-touched child with perpetual sadness in her eyes…’ and ‘…carrying the souls of her family with her to her examinations…’ that Elizabeth discarded the paper. What rubbish it was: they didn’t know the first thing about her. 
Since when had she been painted to be a sad rich orphan? 
Mrs. Malfoy was right: she should have been reading the papers earlier. 

It was the last day of her examinations when they walked past the young paperboy and Elizabeth once again caught the title of the front page. 
’Culprit Caught! Hogwarts Safe Once More’ 

Her heart fell. 
Hagrid. 

She felt numb during her exams, which passed by in a blur. 
When Mr. Malfoy finally dropped her off at the front of St. Mungo’s he spoke to her more than he ever had in the entire time they’d been acquainted. 

”After your examinations are graded, you’re standing at Hogwarts will be determined. The school is perfectly safe now— no need to worry. And I’ve had a few words with some members of the Ministry and they have confirmed your discharge date with St. Mungo’s. Belphia will be here to pick you up July first.” 

Elizabeth looked at him in astonishment. 
July first? That was only a week away! 
”Well, I shall see you quite soon then.” 
And with that, he was gone. 

July first! Elizabeth bounced on her feet and then dashed inside, a bright grin lifting her face in joy. 

-

The truth was, Elizabeth didn’t know where to put all of her things. 
She had endless sets of robes, and an absurd amount of books and letters. 
Where was she to put them all? She didn’t know, so she folded the clothes and placed them neatly on the already made bed, and stacked the books in similarly neat rows next to them.

She dressed herself in her brightest outfit— generously beaded and floral-patterned robes in pale pinks, white, and lilac. She had the nurse help her to tie her hair up the night before in order to make overnight curls, and they fell down her back in beautiful and long waves. Her appearance was leaps and bounds from where it had been when she first arrived. 

Her skin was no longer a sickly pale, but had a healthy glow (although the translucent skin seemed to just be a trait of Aliena). Her cheeks were pink and supple, and her features changed from gaunt and thin to soft and inviting. Her cheekbones and chin and overall facial silhouette rather reminded Elizabeth of a young Natalie Portman or Vivien Leigh from Gone With the Wind. 

Aliena was strikingly pretty. Certainly much prettier than Elizabeth had been, in her previous life. 
It was a face Elizabeth may have envied once. The kind of face a man would do a double take for or stop in the street to view. 

Now, in Aliena's body, Elizabeth didn’t mind staring at herself in the mirror. Once, she caught herself doing so and was struck with a fitful realization that she was becoming vain. Since then had avoided mirrors as a whole. 

But today, Elizabeth reveled in this little indulgence. How nice it was to be a pretty girl, with straight white teeth and a charming mouth. With long dark eyelashes and striking pale eyes. 
She fluffed her hair, and tied half of it back with a little white ribbon. How pretty Aliena was. 

Was it strange to be jealous of herself? 
Perhaps this was a feeling soley her own. 

A knock on the door sent Elizabeth running out of the bathroom and smoothing her skirt to stand— the perfect picture of youthful elegance. 

Ms. Mollin came in first. She had no cane but still wore that tight bun and high-necked plain dresses underneath her equally plain robes. 

Mrs. Malfoy followed behind her— always the perfect picture of sophistication. 

To Elizabeth’s surprise, someone followed behind her. 

A young boy not much older than Elizabeth carried with him a lovely bouquet of white peonies and english roses. 

He was clearly Abraxas Malfoy, Elizabeth’s cousin. 

He was quite tall, similar to her uncle in height, and just as indifferent. His eyes were an electric blue and hair was cut short and styled back primly. He, like his father, also had dark pointed eyebrows, sharp angled features, and golden blond hair. Unlike his father or mother, he had a mole above his left eyebrow and some more hiding near the collar of his dress robes. 

“Good morning,” Elizabeth said brightly, but with a perfectly acceptable subdued pleasant voice. Just as she was taught. 

Mrs. Malfoy stood there for a moment, looked at her son, looked back at Elizabeth, and then back to her son expectantly. 
He moved, apparently deep in thought, and lifted Elizabeth’s gloved hand to kiss the back of it. 

”Lovely to finally meet you, Aliena.” 

She smiled demurely. Just as she was taught. 

”You must be Abraxas. Your mother has told me much about you.” 

Abraxas nodded stiffly. 

When the silence stretched Elizabeth filled it. “How lovely to have a cousin. I hope to become great friends.” 

”Men and women are not friends, girl,” Ms. Mollin said strictly. 

“How interesting. It seems I do not know many things about men and women,” Elizabeth said cheekily. Abraxas looked at her like she had sprouted an extra finger. 

Mrs. Malfoy cleared her throat and waved her wand. A white and silver trunk appeared, and opened up. The objects on Elizabeth’s bed floated and sorted themselves inside and it snapped shut with a short ‘click’. 

Elizabeth took the flowers with a kind thank you. 

“Well, if I have to stay in this filthy place any longer I should have to be admitted myself.” Mrs. Malfoy said. She sounded oddly cheery. 

And they were on their way. Down the hall, the stairs, and out the front door. Elizabeth breathed in the fresh air with a newfound appreciation. She was free. Finally free. 

Ms. Mollin smacked her arm, and she immediately brought her arm tighter to her side and stood up straighter.  

Perhaps in exchange for another prison, she thought. 

-

Tom loathed leaving Hogwarts. Well, he normally loathed it. 

But this time was different. Now, he was sixteen and didn’t need to stay in that damned boys home or in the equally damned countryside orphanage that he had been brought to after the muggle war started. 

He remembered the blitz. When he had narrowly missed it, just by a meer seven days. He’d gotten the news a week into his third year at Hogwarts. 
Since then, he’d spent his summers in a stately home in the countryside for the past two summers crammed in with the same insufferable muggles he'd grown to hate with all his being. 

He couldn’t describe the misery of that place, or those people. He did well to forget them altogether. 

But this summer was totally and utterly different. 

His second semester at Hogwarts had been most useful. 

The arrival of the Heir of Slytherin racked the school. And the death of that insolent fool Myrtle Warren was incredible. While an accident, Tom had certainly made the most of it. The diary tucked against the chest of his robes was plenty evidence of that. 

A horcrux. A real horcrux. He had done it. He was untouchable now. Immortal in every sense of the word. 
But now that he tasted it, he was hungry. He wanted, no— needed more. 

He would have his cake. He would eat it very well. He would lick the plate clean.

After his exploits he’d revealed the truth to his closest confidants. The Knights of Walpurgis were certainly boyish and elementary, but they would grow to be sure. Grow under the strict care and guidance of Tom himself. And this summer, they proved beyond measure their loyalty. 

Houses of the most great and noble kind fought over who had the privilege of taking Tom in that summer. The Blacks had ultimately won the battle, and Tom walked with Alphard through the countryside Black estate as Alphard gave him the grand tour. 

These houses, these families, they were finally worshiping the ground he walked on. Like he had always deserved. He was no longer the halfblood orphan with no name. He was the Heir of the most great and noble house of all— Slytherin. And he would rule them all. 

The Black estate, with its sprawling grounds and imposing manor, was a stark contrast to the dingy orphanage and the cold, dreary countryside home he had endured for so long. The grandeur of the Black family’s estate was a fitting stage for the next chapter of his life.

Alphard was eager to impress, showing off the estate’s many features—its vast library, meticulously manicured gardens, and the opulent drawing rooms adorned with centuries-old artifacts. But Tom was not interested in the superficial splendor. His gaze was fixed on the power and influence that this connection represented.

“The family normally stays the London house, but of course summers are much more enjoyable in the countryside,” Alphard explained. 

Of course. These privileged wizards decided which of their many homes to occupy simply based on their superficial preferences. Tom nodded as if he understood completely.

One day, he truly would understand. One day, he would have manors of his own, more opulent and wealthy and full than any of these houses combined. 

As Tom got acquainted with his room- all dark velvet and black marble and polished mahogany- Alphard lounged on Tom’s bed and spoke of things Tom could care less about.

Though, it was important to ensure the bonds of friendship weren’t forsaken. They were the very foundations of the deep loyalty the Knights of Walpurgis operated on. That, and fear. 

”I daresay my mother is reveling a great deal in your choice to stay with us this summer. She’s always been a vicious competitor,” he remarked. 

Alphard wasn’t one to either beat around the bush or shy away from making comments at other’s expense. He was more rebellious and less predictable than the others. He was from one of the most powerful pureblood families, but unlike his relatives, Alphard didn’t strictly adhere to pureblood ideologies. His attraction to Tom wasn’t just about power—it was about the thrill of breaking the rules, of exploring the forbidden.

Tom knew this well. It was easy to manipulate. He stayed silent and let Alphard continue.

“Her obsession with tradition makes her predictable. You, on the other hand, bring a different kind of excitement to the table. The kind that doesn’t care for old rules or rivalries.” 

“I prefer to see beyond the surface. Traditions are often a cage, and I have no interest in being trapped by them. It’s far more interesting to challenge the established order and see what can be achieved when those boundaries are pushed.” Tom responded. 

“It’s refreshing to be around someone who doesn’t just play the game, but changes it entirely. My family is so dull sometimes it’s become such a monotonous tirade.” Alphard said, growing more and more excited. 

“The thrill of the forbidden is what drives us, what fuels our ambition. And with each step we take outside the lines, we come closer to realizing our vision. The boundaries of old traditions will be nothing more than stepping stones for us,” Tom responded. 

Alphard smiled. It was a strange sort of smile. So warped it didn’t quite fit on his face. Tom thought it to be quite ugly.

“With you, Tom, it’s clear that we’re on the brink of something extraordinary. Let’s make sure we revel in every moment of it.” 
 

Tom hummed in agreement, sitting on the desk chair and allowing himself to stretch out and take up as much space as possible. It was the sort of display he hardly allowed his followers to see, but he did it with a very targeted intention. Alphard’s smug expression solidified his success. 
Alphard believed he had something the others did not. He had a side of Tom that was relaxed and open.

“To the extraordinary, then. The future awaits, and it will be shaped by those who dare to challenge the norms,” Tom said, and paused. 
”I daresay, I have a few plans for this summer. You wouldn’t be privy to help me carry them out, would you?” 

”Of course,” Alphard said quickly. “What do you plan-,” he tried. 

”None of your concern. I just need you to cover for my absence. Here and there.” Tom cut in viciously. It was all a give and take. Give comradery, and rip away harshly. Let them grovel for more.

 
”Yes- Yes of course, Tom.” Alphard said.

Tom raised a brow. 
”M-my lord, I mean.” Alphard followed. 

They were still getting used to that. Of course, they would learn quickly. Tom would be sure of it. 

-

Chapter Text

Seeing Artemis was the best thing Elizabeth could ever imagine.

Mrs. Malfoy had told her tales of how the cat hadn’t left Elizabeth’s room in the entire time she had been there. About how she hissed and scratched anybody who came near, and how she was a ‘bloody waste of a pet’. But Aunt Belphia had smiled, and Elizabeth knew that she was glad for Elizabeth to have a companion.

Elizabeth awoke to a disorienting blend of softness and warmth. For a moment, she lay still, her senses adjusting to her new surroundings. Her cat purred at her feet.

The elegant canopy bed she found herself in was a far cry from the austere confines of St. Mungo’s. The room was draped in shades of silver and white, with intricate, shimmering tapestries hanging from the walls. The morning light filtered through gauzy curtains, casting a soft glow over the luxurious furnishings.

As she sat up and took in her surroundings, Elizabeth felt a strange mixture of awe and apprehension. Malfoy Manor was unlike anything she had ever imagined. The grandeur of the estate was evident even from her bedroom—a vast, opulent land that spoke of wealth and old-world charm. The air was filled with the subtle scent of lilies and a hint of freshly polished wood.

The staff at the manor—house elves and squib servants alike—were courteous and efficient. They ensured that every detail was attended to, from the fine meals to the carefully chosen wardrobe that awaited her. Elizabeth was struck by the sheer scale of the manor’s operations. A well-oiled machine that catered to every conceivable need.

The staff had tried to wake her in the mornings, but Elizabeth had begun getting up before dawn and went for walks as the morning fog rose with the sun. Often times she’d brought a book with her to read as she traversed through grass and dirt and mud. They’d learned to set her bath for her when she got back and get her dressed for the day afterward. She ate breakfast at the stuffy dining table. For the most part it was silent with only the sound of cutlery and chewing.

Any time Elizabeth had tried to speak, she was silenced with the well-practiced art of conversational manipulation. It seemed each member of the Malfoy family was fluent in this language. Perhaps, she supposed, it was a language all high-class nobles were privy to— even the muggle sort.

She found solace in her letters to Dumbledore and the promise of meeting with him soon. He’d offered several times, but between her private lessons (which had grown more strenuous and in-depth) and her academic studies, Elizabeth found herself without much time at all. Finally, after a few weeks of adjusting to her schedule in the manor Elizabeth braved the question at lunch.

“May I go to Diagon Alley this Saturday?”

“Why?” Mrs. Malfoy asked with a raised brow. The hidden question was plainly evident— you already have everything you could ask for, what could you possibly need?

“To meet a friend.” Elizabeth said after swallowing some tea.

”You’ve made friends at the loony bin?” Abraxas asked indignantly.

He was quite fond of making such scathing comments which Elizabeth found surprising. Not only because his parents did not care about his impoliteness at all, but also because he had no reason at all to be nasty to her when she had been nothing but kind to him. She supposed that some people were just nasty for no reason at all. Two weeks after her attempted friendship, she halted her niceties and began biting back. He didn’t take well to it, and grew more irritated by her very presence in his home.

But now, since she was asking for something, she dutifully ignored him.

”What friend?” Aunt Belphia said.

Elizabeth didn’t want to say, hesitated, but then said anyway.

“Albus Dumbledore.” Perhaps using his first name would make it seem more like they truly were friends. Were they friends? Elizabeth didn’t know. She just wanted to see someone who was actually nice to her.

Abraxas choked on his food and Mrs. Malfoy scoffed, cutting harshly into her food. ”No.”

”Why?”

Mrs. Malfoy was taken aback by the question. ”I do not need to explain myself to a child.”

”So there is no explanation.” Elizabeth countered.

“Dumbledore?!” Abraxas asked in shock since he finally stopped choking on his food.

”I do not need an explanation as to why I do not want my charge meeting a crackpot fool.” Mrs. Malfoy said.

”I know many fools, and he certainly isn’t one.” Elizabeth said fiercely. It was that ferocity that showed here and there that got her into trouble. It didn’t suit the picture they tried so desperately to paint of a young submissive girl.

“You’re a child, you know nothing.” Her aunt said.

Abraxas was watching the exchange with an open mouth, and asked, ”How do you know Dumbledore?”

Elizabeth finally acknowledged his existence. ”He saved my life.”

This brought the room to silence.

”He was at the right place at the right time-,” Mrs. Malfoy started, but Elizabeth cut her off.

”And if he wasn’t? The doctors said if I had arrived one minute later I would have died.”

”But you didn’t.”

”Because of him!”

”You do not need to meet a professor outside of school. He is nothing but-”

“But what? He sent me letters when I was sick and visited when he could. I’m sure if I were still there he would visit me now.”

”That is enough.”

Elizabeth set her hands on the table and stood. ”I have been in England for seven months, and six of those were in the hospital. My friends and family are gone. All I do is get abused by that damned governess who hates me. Even you hate me! Who am I supposed to have a pleasant conversation with?”

“I do not hate you.” Mrs. Malfoy said, her voice softening ever so slightly.

”You do not like me, and it feels just the same.”

Mrs. Malfoy said nothing and continued to eat. Elizabeth clenched her jaw.

”I know what you see when you look at me. I am my mother’s daughter, as you so often remind me.”

That sentence froze Mrs. Malfoy and she looked up at Elizabeth with a cold glare. Elizabeth didn’t break the stare. Finally, Mrs. Malfoy shifted in her seat and looked down in defeat. ”Fine. One meal wouldn’t hurt, but do not ask me to eat with you.”

Elizabeth leaned back. She concealed her shock. It worked! She could go!

What she could not conceal was her joy. ”Oh, thank you!” She said excitedly and in the spur of the moment she rushed around the table and half-hugged her aunt and kissed her on the cheek. Aunt Belphia smiled softly against her better judgement.

Apparently this was jarring to Abraxas because he stared at them with another baffled look. Elizabeth ran up to her room, practically skipping, to write Dumbledore a letter.

Twenty minutes later as Elizabeth sat at her desk scribbling quickly on a piece of parchment, Abraxas swung open the door and leaned against the threshold with crossed arms.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but that display earlier was the most insolent thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Elizabeth hummed, not really listening.

“Do you think you can waltz in here and get exactly what you want whenever you want it?”

”You do,” Elizabeth commented, signing the letter.

”I am the heir to the Malfoy name. Their only son.” He spat, “You are nothing.”

”Okay?” Elizabeth asked, raising a brow at him in utter indifference. This only seemed to fuel his rage.

“Dumbledore isn’t your friend,” he tried yet again to annoy her. Elizabeth was busying herself with placing wax into a wax seal spoon and setting it over a candle.

”And you know much about friendship?” Elizabeth asked lightly.

”More than you.” He said scathingly. He’d left the doorway and was now sitting on the footboard bench at the end of Elizabeth’s bed, trying to grasp her expression.

“You’re right,” she said simply and turned to him, her face utterly blank. “I don’t have friends. My family is dead and my life is in pieces.”

It annoyed him more than anything he’d ever heard in his life. Not because what she said, but in the way she said it.

“What exactly are you trying to gain right now? Do you want to put me in my place? Remind me that you’re in charge? Fine. You’re in charge. I don’t care.” Elizabeth said, then turned back and poured the melted wax over the folds of the letter.

”You’re mad.” Abraxas concluded.

Elizabeth hummed, setting the seal in place and letting the wax dry. ”You got me. Totally bonkers.”

Abraxas scoffed, as if he was just coming to the conclusion himself that she wasn’t actually crazy. Stupid boy.

“You won’t speak to my mother that way ever again.” he commanded. She thought about willfully agreeing without the intention of listening to his decree, but decided against it.

“Did you know that your mother came and visited me once a week while I was in St. Mungo’s? Sometimes twice a week.”

”Okay? And?” Abraxas asked.

“Does your mother strike you as the type to tolerate the time of someone she hates? The type to bring them flowers and spend a fortune on them? To bring them to Diagon Alley, or bark at staff for not being attentive enough?”

Artemis, who had been hiding under the bed ever since Abraxas entered the room, jumped onto Elizabeth’s lap. Elizabeth pet her long fur as she continued. ”You’re mother may not like me. But she does love me. Or at least, she loved my mother. I am an extension of her, and in turn she looks for her within me.” Elizabeth finally looked into Abraxas face, which had grown puzzled and interested.

It was the first time seeing such a non-hostile or cold expression on him. ”Women are much different than men. Two sisters, a mother and a daughter, and a mother and aunt. We may fight one moment, and it may seem as if we could never hate someone so much in the world. And then without an apology we will love each other the next minute. I’m sure this is confusing to you since you’ve grown up an only child. But women are enigmas the male species could never understand.” Elizabeth carefully peeled away the seal from the dried wax as she itched Artemis’ chin. She took the letter in her hand and turned to Abraxas.

“You’re far too romantic in thought to ever understand me or my family.” Abraxas concluded. Elizabeth took Artemis out of her lap and set her down on the floor and then stood.

”Perhaps. But I am your family.”

As Elizabeth walked by he grabbed her arm and she turned to look at him. His eyes were determined. ”You’re no family of mine.”

Elizabeth took her arm from his grasp. ”Noted,” she said, and walked from the room.

The meeting with Dumbledore was the sweetest respite she could have ever asked for. It was in the Leaky Cauldron, and she found him already sitting at a table waiting for her arrival. He smiled at her and welcomed her generously, waving toward the bar for a butterbeer. A butterbeer! Elizabeth had never tried one, and she couldn’t have been more happy.

”How have you been doing, Aliena? Are you quite settled in?”

He had heard of her complaints about her lessons but she didn’t want to bring any negativity to this happy occasion.

”It’s as good as can be expected. These great and noble houses are much more uptight than I could have imagined.” she said. 

Dumbledore laughed with that never-dimming twinkle in his eye.

Elizabeth told him of her lessons and of the great and terrible Ms. Mollin. ”You know, there's always something happening. A tea party, or gathering, or visitor. I’m of course never allowed to see anyone or attend any parties or balls. Abraxas tries to hold them over my head as if I’m missing out on anything at all. Actually, I’m rather glad to be excluded.”

”They don’t let you attend events?” Dumbledore asked, but he didn’t sound as if he pitied her. Rather, he seemed interested in gossip which was quite funny to Elizabeth.

”I’m not ‘refined enough’,” she said, holding up quotations. “If that's the way it is then I hope I never become refined.”

Dumbledore smiled and she was reminded of why he wasn’t truly her friend. He was a professor, after all. With all the air of a mentor. ”Tell me, how is Abraxas treating you?”

Ah. He sounded concerned. They were getting into this territory. She could see in his eyes something else was on his mind. She could only guess it had something to do with Tom Riddle.

“He’s fine. I avoid him as much as possible. In truth he doesn’t seem to be the sort I’d associate with, though of course he is family.” Family was a stretch. Elizabeth continued, “I did try to befriend him at first. But it seems his sort don’t believe men and women can be friends.”

Dumbledore nodded, but thoughtfully said, “He is young. Perhaps his mind can be changed.”

Elizabeth hummed, taking a sip of the drink. It tasted like the most incredible thing she’d ever had. It wasn't quite so sweet as she'd imagined, and tasted like a regular beer, but was still thick with some sweet foam on top and that smooth buttery aftertaste. She wiped away the cream from her lip.

”Boys minds are quite stubborn at this age. If not influenced by their friends, at least.” She gauged Dumbledore’s expression but it did not change.

”Quite right.” Elizabeth agreed.

The rest of the lunch was shared with pleasant conversation and eventually lead to more philosophical matters. She liked these sort of talks, and got into such a rapturous exchange she hadn’t even noticed Mrs. Malfoy and Abraxas himself standing there.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy. Abraxas, how do you do? I assume you’re keeping up with your summer reading?”

Abraxas shifted and made a half-hearted response. The air between them was entirely different than that of Elizabeth, who had already had an in-depth discussion about the summer reading through letters she’d exchanged with Dumbledore.

”Well, it was lovely to see you, Professor.” Elizabeth finally said, standing. She didn’t want to go.

“Ah, yes. I daresay you’ve opened my mind about Diggle the Strange’s theory on the implications of multi-dimensions. Of course, though, Aristotle is another matter altogether.”

Elizabeth beamed. “I’ve already begun to draft up some passages of his thinking. If you’d like I can send you any final thoughts I may have.”

“If you are not afraid of my counters.” Dumbledore said. Elizabeth laughed and nodded. Dumbledore smiled and said his goodbyes to Abraxas and Mrs. Malfoy.

As they walked out, Mrs. Malfoy said “Quite strange for somebody so young to be friends with someone so old.”

”Kindred spirits have no age.” Elizabeth reasoned. Mrs. Malfoy sniffed.

Abraxas scoffed. “They’re hardly friends,” he said.

And they were gone again.

At night when Elizabeth couldn’t sleep she liked to wander the manor. It's great halls were nothing if not incredible. The ceilings were painted with elaborate and delicate frescos. The walls were lined with familial portraits snoozing in their frames. Illuminated by the moonlight, she traversed the marble floors and persian rugs.

Once, as she sipped on cold milk in the kitchen, Abraxas startled upon her. She looked over from the window which she gazed out of. The moonlight illuminated her figure— dressed in a long white nightgown with her similarly white hair billowing down behind her to her waist. ”What are you doing here?!” He demanded. She held up the glass of milk in answer. He still looked skeptical.

Artemis, who had taken to following Elizabeth wherever she went, curled around her leg and rubbed her face against her ankle.

She looked back to the scene outside of moonlight kissing the grass and the dark shadows of the forest beyond.

She wondered where her family was. Her real family.

Was her dad laying awake, unable to sleep? Was her mother crying out for her daughter’s return? Were there headlines calling out her name and face? Were there pleas to bring home the girl who was gone?

She often thought of these things deep into the night long after the house was asleep. Artemis looked up at her with those big cornflower blue eyes.

It felt wrong to be happy that she was here. She missed her mother’s nagging. She missed her father’s lectures. The worst parts of them that she seemed so glad to hate at the time— they now were the parts she missed the most.

Aliena’s family was dead. Aliena herself was dead. What did Elizabeth’s real family back in her own world think? Did they think her dead too?

I’m here, she thought desperately. I’m here. I miss you.

Abraxas shivered and turned, leaving without another word and wanting to be as far away from this madwoman as he possibly could.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth underestimated how quickly she could read.

It was only an hour after the opulent carriages arrived and the distant sounds of voices filled the manor that Elizabeth realized she had already finished all of her reading and had nothing more to indulge. For a while, she stared out her tall window out onto the front of the manor, where horses and pegasi were being lead to the stables and carriages were neatly parked around the bend.

The nights that the Malfoys hosted parties were the worst. She was secluded to her rooms and couldn’t leave until the last guest dipped out-- normally well into the following day.

It was going to be a long night. Elizabeth sighed and her breath fogged up the glass. She drew a small happy face within it, and then wiped it away. The grandfather clock chimed in the hall in sync with the clock on her mantle. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Only nine o’clock. She could try to go to bed, or try to reread one of the books that scattered her desk or side tables or stacked on the floor.

She picked one up and flipped to a random page. It was on divination, and she had gotten an ink stain on the page, blotching out some of the words, leaving only scattered phrases such as “Don’t listen… apply dragon blood to…. as see... 11…,” and so forth. Writing in the margins was much easier with a pen rather than a quill. She sighed and shut it again.

After an hour of tossing and turning in the silk sheets and staring up at the white canopy above her, Elizabeth finally huffed and jumped out of bed. The moon shone brightly through the window and the firelight hadn’t dimmed one bit.

And she wasn’t tired at all.

She grabbed her long sleeveless night robe from her wardrobe and put it on over her white shift. It was a red and heavily embellished with a strange black design. Her bedroom door opened with a click. Telling from the distant merry voices, the party was just starting downstairs. Nobody would ever venture to the far west wing, and nobody would be in the second library which had been practically claimed by her. She closed it once more.

With a secret passage to the second library from her room, it had become her frequent stomping ground.

She’d discovered it two weeks into that summer hidden behind the tapestry on her wall, and used it just about every chance she got.

Elizabeth grabbed the gold walking candle holder and snapped her finger on the wick. It lit into a soft flame and illuminated the dark steep stairway that lead to her favorite room in the house. A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth as her bare feet touched the familiar stone path. This magic thing was really quite convenient. She briefly wondered what she would do without it when she inevitably returned home.

When she reached the end of the passage she quietly cracked the secret door open and strained her ear against it to listen. She had been planning on ensuring nobody was inside before she entered, and the sound of murmuring male voices from within sent her stomach plummeting. As she was pulling the handle back to quietly retreat, the door suddenly snapped open. In shock, Elizabeth dropped the candlestick onto the stone steps and stumbled into the room as the door lurched her forward.

Elizabeth turned to find a group of boys her age gathered around the fire. They all sat on the leather couches and embroidered armchairs with their limbs splayed and lounging. Sets of predatory beady eyes all laid on her.

Each of them held crystal glasses with either amber or green liquid inside, and expensive bottles were scattered all over the mahogany coffee table. For a moment the fire crackling in the hearth was the only sound as each took in the intruder.

There were eight of them in total. Every one of them wore the underneath layer of dapper dress robes— black pants and shiny shoes. Loose bowties and crisp white cumberbuns. Starched dickey fronts and dress shirts. Glimmering cufflinks. Untied neck cravats. The robes of the utmost tasteful pureblood fashions draped on the backs of chairs and over stacks of books.

Each one of them had the dim eyes and blushed cheeks of those who had been drinking. All except for one. The most handsome of them all— definitely the most handsome boy Elizabeth had ever seen in her life— was the only one who was still wearing his robes. Not a tie or brooch out of place. He sat tall in a black leather armchair with his legs crossed and a silver goblet in hand. His gaze was probably the most scary of them all. Elizabeth’s heart froze at the sight.

“Oh, it’s just my cousin. I told you boys about her.” Abraxas’ somewhat slurred voice cut through the eerie silence.

Elizabeth didn’t need any further indication to drag her eyes away from the boy whom she surely already knew.

Tom Riddle. That one had to be Tom Riddle. The future dark lord. Sitting in her favorite armchair, in her library.

“Ah,” one of the boys said. He stood and approached her with a bow. He was blonde and square-faced. “It’s lovely to meet you Miss Greengrass. Your cousin has told us much about you.” He held out his hand in a greeting, which Elizabeth hesitantly took, and he lifted her knuckles to her lips and kissed them. A chill ran up her spine and she withtook her hand immediately, cradling it to her chest as she stepped back.

“Justus, you’ve scared her.” Abraxas said dryly. His blonde hair was coming loose from the slicked back presentation it had been in before.

“My apologies.” Justus said, but that devious grin said otherwise. Still, he returned back to his seat and fell into it languidly.

“Abraxas, you never told us how pretty she was.” One of the boys said. He had a noble face with long black hair tied back smoothly. His teeth were gleaming white and eyes a deep blue as they roved over her body.

Elizabeth was just wearing her nightgown and night robe. It should be scandalous to see a young woman wearing her pajamas. Not to mention, she didn’t have any undergarments on.

Elizabeth still felt no sense of embarrassment. Perhaps it was simply based on the fact that in her time, these sorts of clothes would have been pretty conservative. Her night robe did well enough to cover her, despite the fact that it was open in the front and had no sleeves.

Abraxas waved his arm at her. “Come over, let me introduce you to my friends.” She supposed he must have been pretty drunk if he wanted such a thing. She stepped closer toward the gathering but still stood behind the couch. ”This is Alphard Black,” he gestured to the boy with long black hair tied back, “Justus Rosier,” the boy who had kissed her hand.

“Roderick Lestrange.” Brown slicked back hair with a long straight nose and bird-like lips.

“Marius Avery.” Small and thin with cheeks much pinker than the rest and large doe-like brown eyes.

“Wulfric Mulciber.” Large, and muscular. He had a thick protruding brow and small beady eyes. Thick neck. Round jaw. Ugliest of the bunch.

“Dorian Nott.” Yellow blonde mousy hair. Dull green eyes. Hollow cheeks and strikingly full mouth.

“And…” Abraxas hesitated. “Tom Riddle.”

Elizabeth made the conscious effort to refuse to look at him. Instead, she glanced at his slender hand swirling the goblet. A red liquid could be seen inside, just barely visible. His other hand was relaxed on his knee. A gold ring inset with a black stone glittered on his pinky finger.

Elizabeth quickly looked away to Abraxas. His head was leaning back against the couch and he looked at her upside-down.

“It’s lovely to meet you all.” She said, and her voice was much louder than she thought it would be.

”I apologize for interrupting your eavesdropping, Miss Greengrass.” The voice was as sweet and smooth as milk and honey.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, Mr. Riddle.” She said, still not looking at him. Her voice wasn’t snippy or defensive— simply stating a respectful fact.

“Oh? Then what were you doing, hiding behind a bookcase?” He asked, amused yet something dangerous lurking behind his voice.

Finally, Elizabeth worked up the courage and made the brave decision to meet his gaze. ”It’s a passage to the library. I was coming to get a book.”

”A book? You prefer to read over attending the midsummer ball?” One of the boys asked. He sounded amused and astonished by this. It took a moment to remember, but Elizabeth recognized him as Marius Avery. The small one.

“I am not yet allowed to attend balls, Mr. Avery.” She replied curtly.

”Can’t imagine why not,” Mulciber grumbled, looking her up and down. Again, she was reminded that she was wearing her nightgown with no shoes.

”Don’t be rude,” Alphard nudged Mulciber, “I think she looks ravishing.” This last part was followed by amused chuckles and chitter and an off-looking smile. Being the only girl in a room full of boys was difficult. Being alone in a room of these boys was terrifying. She didn't let it sway her.

Abraxas laughed shortly, and said, “Yes, if you weren’t so mad then maybe mother would let you.”

“Perhaps I’ll stay mad forever, then.” She replied lightly, and turned to the bookshelves.

“You hardly look mad to me.” Tom Riddle commented.

Elizabeth scanned the shelves, searching. She half-heartedly responded, “Don’t you know? I’ve been ravaged by war. Aunt Belphia broke me out of the nuthouse herself.”

“My mother is quite generous. But alas, my good fellows, from what I’ve gathered she isn’t quite so mad as she is maddening.”

”Whatever could you mean, dear cousin?” She asked sarcastically, dragging her finger down the spine of a book titled Witches Throughout the Centuries.

“You know what I mean, old bat. All she does all day is read and float around the manor like a ghost. Truly I feel like I haven’t even left Hogwarts at all with her around,” Abraxas spat, and took another long drink from his glass. His friends laughed, but the lack of effect it had on Elizabeth seemed to intrigue them more.

Especially Tom.

”My apologies for not playing chess with you, Abraxas. After all that begging I would have thought you’d have started playing with yourself.” She said, exposing him to his own follies.

“I don’t—,” he started angrly, cheeks red as a tomato. But Tom interrupted him. Tom speaking so much was unusual. Especially to someone who was not them, and a total stranger.

”Will you be attending Hogwarts in the fall?” Tom asked. The room silenced again with interest. Elizabeth took a book from the shelves— the one she’d been looking for.

”I suppose so.” She said, half turning and meeting that piercing gaze. Those brown eyes were endless. A dark pit vacant of light. Elizabeth could see it now— what people meant when they called psychopaths eyes “dead”. It was the only fitting word to describe them.

She tried not to look at the rest of his face but it was hard not to. Telling herself not to do something had the opposite of the effect she desired. She caught his face in her gaze, and in turn got caught herself.

He was devastatingly handsome. With sharp, noble features sculpted with uncanny precision—high cheekbones, a straight aristocratic nose, and lips perpetually set in an enigmatic half-smile. His skin was pale, not sickly, but with an ethereal glow like moonlight on marble, lending him an appearance both fragile and formidable. His eyes had a sliver of white scleral show below the iris, and his dark eyebrows were sharp and foreboding.

“Do you know much about Hogwarts?” He asked, inviting her into the conversation with a soft smile that never reached his eyes. Elizabeth stepped away. “I know enough.” And with that, she turned and approached the open doorway and the bookcase door that was still thrust against the opposite bookshelf. Books were scattered about the floor from when the door had flung open. The candle was extinguished and overturned on the stone step.

“Surely you’d be interested in learning more.” Tom said, louder and firmer this time. It was clear he wanted her to stay. He wanted to dissect her.

In a moment of either great bravery or great stupidity, Elizabeth could not discern, she waved a hand. The books from the floor rose up and slipped back into their places on the shelf and the candlestick lifted into her waiting hand. She glanced back at the boys— all of their eyes on her with open mouths. Except for Tom. His mouth was firmly pursed shut.

”Mmm,” she hummed in disinterest. “No I think… I think I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I don’t exist.” The flame flickered to life. Elizabeth’s small smile curled at the corner of her lips. She stepped through the door and shut the bookcase behind her.

As the secret door closed behind Elizabeth, a heavy silence fell over the room. The crackling fire and the soft clink of ice in crystal glasses were the only sounds for several long moments.

Alphard Black was the first to break the silence. "Well, that was... unexpected."

"Unexpected indeed," Justus Rosier agreed, his eyes still fixed on the bookcase where Elizabeth had disappeared. "Abraxas, you never mentioned your cousin could do wandless magic."

Abraxas, his face flushed from the alcohol, shook his head in disbelief. "I... I didn't know she could. Mother never said anything about that."

"She's quite the enigma, isn't she?" Roderick Lestrange mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Not at all what I expected."

Marius Avery leaned forward, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Do you think she'll really be attending Hogwarts this fall? A new sixth year could be... interesting."

"If she does," Wulfric Mulciber grunted, "she'll need to learn some manners. Walking in on us like that, in her nightclothes no less."

Dorian Nott chuckled softly. "I don't think she particularly cared about our sensibilities, Mulciber. Did you see how she looked at us? Like we were beneath her notice."

Throughout this exchange, Tom Riddle had remained silent, his dark eyes fixed on the spot where Elizabeth had stood.

Now, he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. "She's hiding something."

The others fell silent, turning to look at their leader.

"What do you mean, my lord?" Abraxas asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Tom's lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. "She knows more than she's letting on. Did you notice how she avoided looking at me until the very end? And that comment about being 'ravaged by war'... curious, don't you think?"

"But surely that was just a joke," Alphard said, frowning. "About Abraxas's mother breaking her out of an asylum?"

"Perhaps," Tom conceded, taking a sip from his goblet. "But jokes often hold kernels of truth. I think we ought to be watching Miss Greengrass when we return to Hogwarts."

The other boys nodded in agreement, some looking intrigued, others slightly wary. Tom's interest in someone was rarely a simple matter.

"Now," Tom said, his tone lightening slightly as he addressed the group, "shall we return to our previous discussion? I believe we were talking about our plans for the coming year..."

As the conversation shifted back to their schemes and ambitions, the encounter with Elizabeth Greengrass lingered in the back of their minds, an unexpected ripple in the carefully laid plans of Tom Riddle and his followers.

Elizabeth's heart pounded as she ascended the steep, winding staircase back to her room. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, mimicking the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind. She clutched the book she'd retrieved tightly to her chest, as if it could shield her from the memory of what had just transpired.

Once safely back in her chamber, she leaned against the closed door, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The encounter in the library replayed in her mind, each detail etched with startling clarity.

Tom Riddle.

She had known, of course, that she would meet him eventually. But nothing could have prepared her for the reality of his presence. His piercing gaze, the careful control of his expressions, the underlying current of danger that seemed to ripple beneath his polished exterior – it was all overwhelmingly intense.

She wasn't meant to have met him. Not yet, at least. In her dashed hopes, she had wanted to avoid him altogether. She should have known he'd be here, attending this stupid party as Abraxas' friend.

Elizabeth moved to her window, gazing out at the moonlit gardens below. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just narrowly escaped something, though she wasn't quite sure what. Tom's interest in her had been palpable, his questions probing. She knew she would have to be exceptionally careful around him.

She thought of the way he had watched her, those dark eyes missing nothing. Had she given anything away? The weight of her secrets felt heavier than ever. She was playing a dangerous game, and Tom Riddle was not an opponent to be underestimated.

As she removed her night robe, Elizabeth's mind raced. She would need to be on her guard at all times, especially once she went to Hogwarts. Tom and his followers would be watching her closely, she was certain of it.

Settling into bed, Elizabeth stared up at the canopy above her. Sleep felt impossible now. Tom Riddle's face swam before her closed eyes – handsome, charismatic, and utterly ruthless. She knew what he would become, the horrors he would inflict upon the world.

"I won't let you win," she whispered into the darkness. "Not this time."

All of a sudden, a new goal had entered her future. The possibility that she was here for something more— something other than herself. Maybe she wasn’t a mad woman laying in a hospital bed somewhere pretending this entire thing up in her head. Maybe she was here for a reason.

Perhaps she could change things. Change the future. She had always read about such things happening in books before. She thought about Harry Potter, and the tragedies that were laid out for his future. About Lily and James Potter, who would die at just 21 years old. About all the others who would suffer at Tom Riddle’s hands. She had to have been brought to this time for a reason. This specific time— when Tom was young and inexperienced.

With that vow echoing in her mind, Elizabeth finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, her dreams filled with shadowy figures and piercing, dark eyes that seemed to see right through her.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth didn’t realize how much she would miss her smartphone. It seemed at every turn she longed for the technology from her world and time.

She missed being able to pull it out to check the weather forecast or temperature outside. She missed having a calculator on hand. She missed being able to look up whatever strange and insatiable questions she had on the internet: when was the microwave invented? what movies were in theaters in 1943? how long can someone live without food? why do British people call dessert pudding? where did J.R.R. Tolkien live in July 1943? do bears live in england? how do you spell congeniality? how do you spell whippersnapper? how do you pronounce Caoimhe?

None of these questions could be answered, and Elizabeth had taken to carrying around a pocket-sized dictionary whenever she was reading or writing in order to make sure she could look up spellings or meanings whens she encountered them. Her spelling was terrible, and she was strictly disciplined for her mistakes by Ms. Mollin when she read her essays-- not to mention her terrible penmanship. Both of these follies were the irreparable result of spell-correct or grammer-aids or using a keyboard. Writing anything took ages now, and it was a slow process of getting used to the rolls of parchment and quills and ink and the obnoxious cursive lettering she had to practice over and over to perfect. She missed typing her essays instead of writing them by hand. She missed looking up homework questions instead of having to use research books to find a solution. She couldn’t read a map, she couldn’t start the oven. She couldn’t light a fire, or darn stockings, or dance past a level four in ballet.

She was totally and utterly useless. But the worst part weren’t the extra lessons, or the beradement from Ms. Mollin. It wasn’t the taunting from Abraxas while she worked tirelessly in her studies and lessons, or the disappointment from her Aunt Belphia at the poor quality her childhood education had been.

No, the worst part of all was the music. Or rather, the lack thereof.

She used to be able to pull up any song at the touch of her fingers. She used to be able to close her eyes and let the world around her drift away and immerse herself in song.

The only kind of music Elizabeth had now was the ballet and ballroom dance records which spun on a gramophone in the mirrored ballroom, or the grand piano itself that sat in the parlor and played on its own with an enchantment whenever the family lounged together in the afternoons.

It was on one of Elizabeth’s precious Sundays- the only day a week she had fully off from lessons- that her, Belphia, Abraxas, and Brutus were all lounging around in the parlour. Since there were no visitors in Malfoy Manor that day, Elizabeth was allowed (and expected) to join the family. Elizabeth laid on a velvet chaise and doddled with her arm sprawled over the back as she swayed her feet to the music. Mrs. Malfoy had given up trying to force Elizabeth to embroider or read an educational book, so Elizabeth hummed along to the familiar song and closed her eyes while absorbing the sunlight streaming in through the window.

Abraxas and Brutus were playing cards at a table in the corner. Abraxas was loosing terribly, and grew more and more annoyed with his father’s never-ending evaluations on where exactly Abraxas was going wrong.

“What spell do you use to get the piano to play like that?” Elizabeth asked Mrs. Malfoy after the song changed into something more upbeat and complicated.

“It’s a simple enchantment.” She replied disinterestedly.

Elizabeth turned her head where it lay back on a throw pillow. ”Does it read the sheet music?”

”Yes,” Mrs. Malfoy said as she pulled the needle through the fabric in the embroidery hoop. She was working on a complicated beaded design of a bouquet of blue, white, and pink flowers.

“Are there other enchantments that don’t need sheet music?” Elizabeth wondered allowed.

“I suppose. They’re much more complicated.”

”How so?”

”It would require the caster to know each note. Like picturing the sheet music in one’s mind.”

Elizabeth hummed, feeling more put-down. ”Do you have any other instruments?” she asked.

Mrs. Malfoy nodded once.

Abraxas, as he always did, butted in where he wasn’t welcome. “You wouldn’t know since you can’t attend balls.”

They had only hosted two balls at the manor that summer, and from how things had become much more relaxed around the house Elizabeth had assumed they were done hosting them. Besides, the last ball she “attended” was a horrible mistake that Elizabeth didn’t like thinking about. Thankfully, it was the one subject Abraxas never breached.

“To no fault of her own, Abraxas. She learns well enough.” Surprisingly, Brutus was the one to speak up. He normally ignored conversation altogether unless he was addressed directly. Still, he was wise and indifferent which was not such a bad thing in Elizabeth’s eyes.

“Yes, Ms. Mollin gave us a nice report of your progress. You’re doing much better than we had expected upon your arrival.” Aunt Belphia said, sounding rather proud but clearly trying to conceal the praise in that noble language that all of them were fluent in.

Compliments hidden within insults. Insults hidden within compliments. It always seemed there was an invisible ledge that they all stood on, forever one step up from Elizabeth in every way. She could never breech that barrier. Once upon a time this may have elicited envy or a desire to try and pursue a greater standing. Now that she saw them all up close, Elizabeth didn’t much care for such things. The reality wasn’t nearly as glamorous as they pretended it to be.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, and was genuine when she said it. “I don’t know how much progress I will make with just one month remaining of summer holiday, but I should hope I meet your expectations.”

It was a perfect response, even when coming out of the mouth of the unruly girl who lounged on the chaise without decorum or a care in the world. She was somehow simultaneously rebellious and ridiculously compliant. The balance was strange, but it suited the Malfoy’s well enough. While Elizabeth did not play the game, she also was not thrown off the board. Perhaps a silent bystander. The chess clock next to the board. Immune to insults but also to instruction.

It was hard to ignore how difficult it had been for Elizabeth. This much was clear to everyone. She woke early in the mornings and worked all day tirelessly until dinner. She practiced walking, danced till her feet were numb, wrote until her hands were too stiff to move, and read until her eyes were bloodshot. She had hardly any leisure time at all, and anyone else in her position would complain or try and sneak away from Ms. Mollin or something. For Elizabeth to grin and bear it was another, but for her to be so pleasing about it was another.

“You’re quite the enigma,” Mr. Malfoy admitted and actually laughed. It was quite and short, but genuine. Elizabeth sat up in shock and looked at him. They all did— like he’d grown a second head.

“What?” he asked at their stares. Mrs. Malfoy shook her head with a smile, turning back to her needlework. “Aliena is a dedicated young woman,” she indulged.

Elizabeth gaped at her Aunt now. Were they really being so soft? Their normally hard exteriors giving way felt almost like a cardinal sin. Abraxas was having none of it.

“How hard can it be dancing and learning to walk? If she weren’t so unaccomplished in the first place then she wouldn’t have to be working at such an accelerated pace.” He tossed his hand on the table. Brutus showed his in return, and Abraxas huffed at yet another loss.
Elizabeth couldn’t help the desire to sit up straighter now, feeling herself unconsciously fueled from the ever-so-slight praise. The Malfoy parents didn’t do praise. To hear it now, when she still had a far ways to go with her finishing classes, was more than enough to lift her heart just a bit.

”I should like…. to play the piano.”

It was the first time she’d suggested it. They all looked at her. ”You play?” Mrs. Malfoy asked. It wasn’t common for a high-ranking witch to play the piano— there were others to do it for them-- musicians and entertainers, or magic.

But Elizabeth did play. She played well, and she missed music. She missed her guitar. She missed spending her free afternoons in her parent's garage, learning songs and performing for her family.

“I sing too.” Elizabeth said, standing up and making her way to the sleek grande piano. Mrs. Malfoy waved her wand, and the enchantment stopped. She sat at the stool.

“Is it improper?” Elizabeth ventured as she withdrew a new sheet of music-- one she didn’t recognize. Was this a wizard composition?

Her aunt paused in her response, but eventually gave an answer. “Actually, it’s quite an accomplished skill.” Elizabeth smiled but they couldn’t see it. Then perhaps she would give them a show. She closed the sheet music and hovered her hands over the keys, recalling the most complicated piece she knew by heart. She’d never thought to play in her free time. Her free time was so rare and valuable she preferred lounging around and doing nothing at all.

She started Moonlight Sonota’s 3rd movement with a bang. Her audience jumped at the start and leaned forward to listen. Elizabeth’s long slender fingers expertly moved over the keys, and as she melted into the piece her expression shifted into passionate focus as her body ebbed and flowed with the rise and fall of the song. It was graceful and beautiful and she made not one mistake. Her gift of music was not something she shied from, and she certainly didn’t now.

It was very long, and when Elizabeth finally finished she sighed like she had just taken a first breath of air after being underwater for an eternity. She flexed her fingers and turned to look at her spectators. Abraxas was standing, awe etching his features in a way that Elizabeth had never seen. Her guardians were watching her with beautiful surprise. Mr. Malfoy clapped, and Mrs. Malfoy joined in. They both smiled at her like they’d just discovered a gem amongst coal.

“Beautifully done, I’ve never heard such playing in all my life!” Brutus exclaimed happily. Well that was more praise than she thought could ever come out of his mouth. ”How have not shown us such talent sooner? You should have told us from the start.”

Elizabeth smiled and thanked them modestly. Abraxas didn’t compliment her, but he sat back down in his chair and turned away toward the window. A bright blush tainted his ears.

“No wonder you were interested in musical enchantments. I have some interesting books on the subject if you would like to read them. Do you play any other instruments?” Mrs. Malfoy continued. Elizabeth nodded.

“Well we must hear more!”

And for the rest of the afternoon, Elizabeth played to their praises.

“Abraxas, you would do well to escort her to Diagon Alley,” Mrs. Malfoy argued a few days later at lunch. Abraxas was vehemently against such a thing.

“Can you not take her next week?”

“You’re already meeting your friends there tomorrow, and I have parties and dinners to attend all week.”

”Well what about father?”

”Your father is quite busy with work. I do not see your reason for protest.”

Elizabeth was eating without saying a word. In truth, she didn’t really want to go to Diagon Alley with Abraxas, and secretly hoped he would win. But, she did want to go to Diagon Alley.

”To take her to purchase a muggle instrument? It’s absolutely absurd.”

”A guitar is not quite so muggle anymore. Only last month did Mrs. Avery have a musician at her ball. You heard it, it was quite an interesting performance.”

When Elizabeth had told Mrs. Malfoy that her favorite instrument was a guitar, she had come to a quick conclusion that she must purchase one for Elizabeth at once.

“And you truly wish to raise a musician?” He spat, disgusted. Mrs. Malfoy inclined her head as if she somewhat agreed with him.

”What’s wrong with musicians?” Elizabeth asked, genuinely curious.

Mrs. Malfoy was taken aback. “It is not a viable career, Aliena. Surely you weren’t seeing to pursue it seriously?” Clearly she had not even considered such a thing. Perhaps all she was thinking was for Elizabeth to be a pretty, talented ornament within her collection of beautiful things and accomplished children.

”Er…,” Elizabeth said. In truth, she hadn’t considered it. Even in her past life, she knew the idea of being a musician was silly. She was good, of course, but that didn’t make a viable career. She always knew that she would eventually go to college and wind up at a boring office job until she hopefully married and could stay home to raise children. Who wouldn’t want to be a stay-at-home wife? Her mother had been, and Elizabeth too had always wanted children. For the first time it struck her that this was the only option available to her in this time and place. She had always had a choice before, but no wild ambition. It’s where she severely lacked-- ambition.

It seemed a woman without ambition was the best thing a woman could be in this world. It contradicted her ideas about the values of Slytherin, which were often spoken about by each of the Malfoys.

”No.” She finally said. “I don’t wish to be a musician.”

Mrs. Malfoy smiled as if this were the best response. “What a silly thing to say, Abraxas. A young woman of Aliena’s standing could never indulge the idea of being an entertainer. What a thought!” She’d said the word entertainer like it were so below them that it was disgusting.

Elizabeth remembered her parents, who throughout her childhood encouraged her to pursue her talent. Elizabeth had always declined the idea after she’d grown up a bit. She was being realistic. Perhaps it was the fear of trying and failing that brought on those thoughts. It didn’t matter. The conclusion was the same.

But now that being a mother and a wife was the only option, it felt a bit stifling. 

“As long as she knows that.” He said firmly, looking at Elizabeth. She knew now, that there was only one career possible for Elizabeth: marry well to a man of the Malfoy’s choosing and to foster an heir.

Well, it wasn’t so far off from Elizabeth’s original desires, so she didn’t try and object. She knew, though, that she’d have to get a job at the Ministry of Magic or Gringotts or something before she ever settled down. She didn’t want the Malfoys to marry her off. She at the very least wanted to fall in love and choose her own way. There was no point in voicing these opinions until she came across that treacherous bridge in due time.

Elizabeth chose her words carefully.

“The life of a wife and mother is the noblest pursuit. And the only one I desire for my future.” Perfectly tailored and executed.

Mrs. Malfoy preened. “How lucky I am to have such a sensible young woman under my care. I daresay you have learned very much.”

”She’s hardly sensible.” Abraxas muttered as he picked at his food.

Which was also true, in many aspects. But rather than being opposing to their desires or way of life, Elizabeth was simply more unusual than anything. It wasn’t a crime to be unusual. And the Malfoy parents took whatever they could.

”Sensibility can be learned.” Mrs. Malfoy responded.

”How is she going to learn when you allow her to traverse the grounds getting her hem muddy and riding horseback astride?”

Abraxas had stumbled on Elizabeth returning from an early morning ride just the day before. He’d sneered at her for her form, and claimed ‘exercise is not suitable for women’. His eyes had lingered on her knees, which were hardly exposed since she wore stockings.

”What she does early in the morning with no witnesses in sight is not of your concern. She’s hardly doing such things in public.” Mrs. Malfoy commented. It seemed that despite their strictness, they allowed just enough leeway with Elizabeth to allow her to do what she wanted-- as long as it did not impede their ideas of what was acceptable.

“Yet.” Abraxas muttered, stuffing his mouth with meat. Elizabeth said nothing. She found it was often times the best response.

Mrs. Malfoy still turned to Elizabeth. “Riding astride is quite improper. You were taught how to ride side-saddle well enough, were you not? If you need more lessons—,” And Elizabeth swiftly interjected.

“I don’t! I’ll be sure to ride side-straddle in the future.”

The riding lessons were absolutely miserable. She couldn’t bear to repeat them.

”Good. I should like to see what guitar you produce after your trip with Abraxas tomorrow. You do have good taste in such things?”

”Of course.”

”Do not worry about expense. I’d like only the best for my charge. Do not forget-- everything you do reflects our great and noble house. We are only as strong as the weakest link.”

Elizabeth had heard that said so many times it was practically tattooed on her brain. And it never failed to remind Elizabeth that she was the weakest link of all.

”Of course.”

The trip to Diagon Alley couldn’t possibly be so dreadful to Abraxas, since he abandoned her as soon as he could. When they arrived in the great floo fireplaces at the entrance near the Leaky Cauldron, Abraxas turned to her. She wasn’t nearly as proficient as him in traveling by floo, and she was the only one covered in soot. Still, it seemed he was well-enough concerned with her appearance in public. He waved his wand and muttered “Scourgify.”

Elizabeth had learned a while back that the use of underaged magic was no crime in this time, at least not yet. And as long as it didn't violate the statues of muggle witness, both Elizabeth and Abraxas had been using their wands all summer.

“Can’t you be useful at all? If anyone were to see you like that you would disgrace the Malfoy name.”

Elizabeth hummed noncommittally. He rolled his eyes.

“Meet back here in three hours. I have business to attend to.” He remarked. Business with his friends, she figured. She couldn’t be more relieved he was dismissing her to her own devices. She had absolutely no desire to see his friends.

She tried not to sound so pleased when she said, “I’ll see you then.” She watched him turn on his heel and disappear into the fray without a second glance or hint to where any sort of music shop would be. Elizabeth sucked in a breath and sighed, taking in the beautiful sight that was this bustling street.

Beautiful in all it’s colors. Children laughed. Doors dingled as they opened. Everything was slanted and mismatched and smoke billowed from chimneys into the gloomy London sky.

Elizabeth began wandering the streets, looking into each shop window and marveling at the devices and potions and animals. She could walk around here for hours, but time was short. In her wanderings she hadn’t found any sort of music shop at all. She looked up at Gringotts. It loomed white at the end of the street, crooked and monstrous.

Elizabeth remembered long ago when she had marveled at an imitation of this place in a theme park, with a great faux dragon breathing fire in the air. She couldn’t help but think about how different this was from that time. More wonderful than she could possibly imagine. More real and magical and impossibly beautiful. A great clock at the top chimed.

Two. She’d already been wandering for thirty minutes. Elizabeth turned to a short elderly man on the street who was already looking at her. ”Good afternoon,” she greeted.

”Ah!” He said, as if he was surprised she was speaking to him. “I apologize, I did not mean to stare, but you are Aliena Greengrass?” He asked.

Right. She had been plastered on the Daily Prophet for months. It felt strange to be known by strangers. Somehow uncomfortable. But she smiled anyway and nodded.

“I thought so! I read about you in the Prophet! How lucky of me to stumble across you,” he said joyously and held out his hand. She returned the favor but instead of shaking it he kissed her knuckles. Right. That was the way here.

”Actually, I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of a music shop? I’m afraid I don’t know my way around very well.”

He looked ecstatic. “Of course, young lady! Of course of course. I’ll lead you there, it’s just around the corner near here.”

She followed him by his side and he babbled about both her and the war. He gave his condolences and asked how she was fairing. She responded graciously and short. They finally reached a narrow shop colored a deep purple with the words ‘Magical Musical Instruments’ painted on a shop sign hanging out front.

She thanked him profusely and he wished her well. The shop was larger inside, and covered head to toe in gleaming instruments. Some of them she recognized— trumpets and triangles and symbols. Others looked more complicated and impossibly foreign. One of them looked like a french horn with two horns instead of one. Another was a simple long piece of wood with no strings and a slit down the middle. How it operated, Elizabeth had no idea. She made her way to the front where, behind the counter, a wall of gleaming instruments bared down on her.

She spoke to the clerk briefly, who also seemed to know who she was and was all too happy to help. She asked on guitars, and he looked at her with surprise but happily obliged. ”Just got a new shipment in! Quite rare and new, aren’t they? Muggle’s have the darndest ideas!” The wizarding world must be very behind it's time if they thought guitars were new.

Elizabeth was led up some stairs to a balcony that had more instruments packed in. The back wall was full of gleaming guitars on display, some magical and some not. After a good forty minutes of speaking with the clerk and browsing the selection, Elizabeth eventually selected a gleaming silver gibson that was both acoustic and electric— the latest invention. When she strumed, it sounded loud and gentle at the same time, and when she flicked a switch it turned distinctly electric without any need for an amp.

She paid a steep price for it, and left carrying the gleaming black case with her.

Elizabeth looked back up to the great clock. She had to be back at 4:30, but it was only 3:00. She had plenty of time to do whatever she pleased. After a bit more wandering, she stopped into the pet shop and bought Artemis an expensive and beautiful collar. After that, she decided to stop into an ice cream store before she had to go. It was boustrous and smelled incredible. Of fresh waffle cones and chocolate and vanilla. After marveling through the glass at the different flavors, she settled on a scoop of vanilla. She couldn't dare to venture into any of the strange magical flavors the shop had to offer.

But when she turned around to find a seat her stomach plummeted. There, at a circular table in the corner, a group of boys sat.

Abraxas’ gleaming white hair was hard to miss. Elizabeth froze, and then forced herself to manually move. They still hadn’t noticed her yet. She might have gotten away with it, were it not for one boy in particular. ”Miss Greengrass!” He called over the chattering crowd. Some around her went silent and looked. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and dared to look over at them.

It was Justus Rosier, holding up his hand in greeting. There were four of them. To her terror, Tom Riddle was among them. Abraxas, Justus, Alphard Black, and Tom Riddle all stared at her with lofty gazes and cool expressions. Abraxas pursed his lips and glanced at Justus (who wasn’t looking) like he’s just smelled a pile of shit on the floor.

And then there was Tom Riddle. She immediately concealed the look of terror in her eyes. Normally she was a good actress and acted indifferent well, but when it came to those dangerous eyes she had to fight to act normal. She slowly walked toward the gallows. ”Good afternoon,” Justus said. They all stood up at her approach, as was the proper etiquette when a woman arrived. Justus took her hand and kissed the back of it deeply just as they had when they first met, touching his lips to her bare skin. She retracted her hand, trying not to look dismayed and wishing she'd put on gloves that morning. “It’s lovely to see you.”

“What beautiful robes.” Alphard remarked, also taking her hand but only grazing his lips on her knuckles.

So they spoke that foreign language too. The hidden insinuations and insults. It must be a trait born and bred. Clearly he was referring to their first meeting when she was wearing nothing but her nightgown and robe.

She chose to ignore it, which Tom Riddle helped with.

“Abraxas didn’t tell us he was your escort today.” It was a jab at Abraxas, which took Elizabeth by surprise. His fingers took her’s delicately and the coldness of them sent shivers down her spine. As he leaned forward in a bow to kiss her knuckles, he looked up at her through his inky lashes.

The touch of his lips made her want to pull her hand away as quickly as possible, but all that came out was a slight twitch of her fingertips.

”I told him he should enjoy the afternoon with his friends.” She said, with taking her hand and slipping it within the warm folds of her robes. It was a lie, and she snuck a look at Abraxas. He pursed his lips but didn’t deny it, because it saved him the face of looking like an improper gentleman and escort.

“Won’t you sit with us? We were just discussing the coming ball at Alphard’s,” Tom asked smoothly. The rest of the boys sat, but Tom remained standing as he watched Elizabeth carefully. Abraxas grabbed a chair and dragged it noisily toward them-- making her choice for her. There would be no escape. She was surprised he would do such a thing, but she realized quickly that perhaps nobody ever denied Tom anything he asked. She could try to come up with an excuse, but none would be good enough in front of Abraxas, who would surely berade her for her impropriety.

She set her guitar down on the floor and bowl of ice cream on the table along with the small bag that contained Artemis’ new collar. Tom, who was still standing closest to her, took her chair by the back and pressed it forward as Elizabeth sat. ”Thank you,” she said quietly. Four pairs of eyes bore into her.

What she would do to be back home curled up with a book! In fact, she’d rather be getting baraded by Ms. Mollin than here.

“Tell me, will you be in attendance this Friday?” Tom pursued. God, what was she getting herself into? Ice cream with a side of interrogation. She refrained from looking at him and instead began to move her spoon around in her dish.

“I’m afraid I have prior engagements.” She replied. Surely they knew she wasn’t allowed. If it was meant to humiliate her, it did not. Since Elizabeth could give less of a shit.

“Prior engagements? Do tell,” Alphard said. He always seemed to be smiling that wretched smile.

”Her studies run late.” Abraxas stepped in. She looked to him, and he looked effortlessly bored. For the first time, she was happy he was opening his mouth.

”Studies? Have you not already taken your O.W.L.s?” Justus asked, leaning forward with great interest. She nodded, and looked to Abraxas again. She wanted him to speak, despite the fact that these questions were directed toward her. It seemed he was all too happy to oblige her. ”A young woman has other studies to attend to in addition to magic.”

”Ah, don’t tell me you have yet to complete finishing school.” Alphard said. He was both amused and disgusted by this. If Elizabeth actually cared about any of their opinions this would surely have been embarrassing.

”Of course she has, but her studies certainly weren’t up to par with the Malfoy standards.” Abraxas countered haughtily. It was a lie that she had completed finishing school, but Elizabeth ran with it by saying nothing at all and taking a small bite of vanilla ice cream.

“Tell us, Aliena,” Tom said, addressing Aliena directly so Abraxas could no longer play her hero. “How was your education? Did you attend another school up until now?”

“My schooling was private.” So, no.

”How unusual.”

”We live in dark times. It was for my safety.” It would have been a good excuse.

“Fat lot that did you,” Alphard commented viciously. Abraxas glared at him, and Justus looked scornful, opening his mouth as if he would do some damage control for his friend’s impropriety. Tom, though, stared impenetrably into Elizabeth, gauging for an effect.

“Fat lot indeed,” was all she said. It was light and emotionless. Void of anger or pain or anything at all.

Alphard laughed shortly like this was very amusing. ”You must have been through horrible terrors. Do tell—,” Alphard started, leaning forward. Tom was just leaning back and watching.

Abraxas opened his mouth and scornfully said, “Alphard—,”

Alphard clearly didn’t know how to shut his mouth. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. Elizabeth popped another spoonful of vanilla in her mouth as he continued. ”Was it very painful? I hear such vicious things about Grindlewald’s—,”

One sharp look from Tom and Alphard shut his mouth.

Elizabeth leisurely took another bite as a heavy silence hung over them. They were clearly afraid that she would burst into tears or yell angrily at Alphard’s rudeness. They surely had never been so disrespectful to a lady. Abraxas seemed to be taking it as a personal slight and was red with anger.

Elizabeth was the one to come to his rescue now. ”Have you ever felt the effects of an Unforgivable Curse, Alphard?” She addressed him by name, which would have been improper. This topic was also certainly not something to be discussed over ice cream.

“Come on, Aliena, it’s time to go.” Abraxas said.

Elizabeth looked at him with a confused mask. “Why ever so? I haven’t finished my ice cream.” She turned to Alphard. He looked at her with new eyes. Hungry eyes, like he wanted desperately to continue. Tom had a similar look but was infinitely better at concealing it.

“Well?” Elizabeth asked, taking another bite and looking at Alphard expectantly.

”No.” Was all he said. Elizabeth hummed in that aloof way that Abraxas hated. Telling from her cousin's expression, he didn’t seem to hate it at the moment.

“Well it feels rather like that.”

”Which one?” Alphard dared to ask. Elizabeth tilted her head at him as if he was stupid.

“You know which.” Cruciatus. Alphard let out a breath and leaned back.

Justus wrung his hands and lightly said, “Do you have plans to debut this summer?”

Elizabeth slid a look to Abraxas, a confirmation to answer on her behalf. It was becoming like a dance, changing who took the lead back and forth. Tom shifted, slightly annoyed that Abraxas was speaking again. ”Not until next summer.”

“How unfortunate. Quite late for a debut, but I suppose it can’t be avoided. It would have been lovely to enjoy your company.” Rosier was laying it on thick as if flirting would patch up the earlier subject.

“I disagree,” Elizabeth said, and a sharp look from Abraxas said that was wrong to say, so she repaired elegantly. “I wouldn’t want to disgrace such events with my less than satisfactory dancing.”

”You’re not inept at dancing.” Abraxas said quickly. This was such a blatant lie that Elizabeth almost laughed aloud. So often had Abraxas sat in on her dancing lessons just to tease her whenever she made any sort of mistake. And when Ms. Mollin forced Abraxas to step in as a ballroom dancing partner he never failed to make learning as difficult as possible.

”You’re modesty is without fault, Miss Greengrass. Abraxas never misses a chance to help you with your lessons.” Rosier said. Ah, so Abraxas had told his friends about that. In what context? Elizabeth looked slyly over at him. He blushed high on his cheek bones and took a large bite of his chocolate ice cream.

“He is ever the dutiful cousin.”

“Dutiful, hmm? Abraxas, your new houseguest certainly brings out a kindness in you I’ve never seen before.” Tom was clearly not convinced, but his voice also held something else in it. Almost like a well-concealed threat.

”Oh Tom, it is easy to be kind to such a beauty.” Alphard said. He was looking over her face unabashedly. For boys who liked to pretend to have manners, they certainly did a poor job at it.

“You flatter me.” Elizabeth said, sweet and kind and perfect. As if he hadn’t just been berading her.

”If that is your claim, then your kindness is certainly startling.” Tom responded to Alphard elegantly. Alphard shifted and looked away. It was Tom’s favorite activity to use his followers to do his dirty work and then berate them for it afterward. It was so very helpful.

”If I may ask, what have you got there?” Justus asked Elizabeth. He did a good job at sticking to proper small talk.

”Ah,” Elizabeth said, pulling the collar from the bag. “It’s for my cat Artemis.”

”It's pretty enough to wear,” Tom commented, looking at the brown leather collar with the jewel dangling from it. It implied something deeply inappropriate, but maybe Elizabeth was just reading too much into the way he'd said it.

”She’s quite pampered.” Elizabeth quickly said and dropped it back into the bag as if it burned her.

”Oh I’ve heard about that little devil,” Alphard said tactlessly as always.

”Abraxas doesn’t like her much.” Elizabeth admitted with a mild laugh. Of course Abraxas had talked shit about her cat.

”She’s a terror,” Abraxas responded, dropping the propriety for a brief jest. “Just the other day she left a dead snake outside my room.”

Tom shifted.

”That means she likes you. She’s trying to bring you food.” Elizabeth responded.

Abraxas scoffed in disgust. “It was huge. How such a small thing managed to kill it is beyond me.”

Elizabeth glanced at Tom, who was silently retreating from the conversation. Right. Mr. Snake himself was right there.

“She’s certainly not a Slytherin,” she said with a smile, not being able to help herself when she looked at Tom. He was looking at her with that inscrutable gaze again and a frown. ”Don’t tell me you feel accosted by my cat. Does your house loyalty run that deep?”

The rest of the table knew how on the mark she was, but they also knew of her ignorance. Or at least, they thought she was. Tom blinked and scoffed. “Of course not.”

”Has Abraxas told you much about Slytherin?” Alphard said. It was a hidden question, and Alphard looked to Abraxas like he was suspecting him of something.

”No, I’m afraid not. Though, I have read a bit about the different houses.”

”What a bore.” Justus said, leaning back as he ate his ice cream.

”You don’t like reading?” She prompted.

”Who does? Well, of course, Tom here does,” Alphard added. “But Tom is a different breed.”

”Aliena reads even more than Tom does, if you’ll believe it.” Abraxas said. He didn’t realize it would be an insult, and Tom didn’t show that it could be. “She reads while walking and eating. Probably sleeping, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without a book.”

”She has no book now.” Tom pointed out with a raised brow.

”No, she’s got one in her pocket.” Abraxas said, taking another bite.

”How did you know that?” Aliena asked incredulously, touching the book at her side unconsciously. Abraxas shrugged and took another bite. She bit her lip and looked back down at her ice cream, moving her spoon around. She knew it wasn’t necessarily good for girls to read so much in this time, but she’d never been scolded for it.

”And what book would that be?” Tom asked. For the first time Elizabeth lit up red, embarrassed. Tom leaned forward. He’d stepped on a beautiful hidden landmine.

“Nothing.” She’d said it took quickly. None of the other boys were interested in the slightest, but Tom couldn’t let this explosion go. No, now he had to know.

Abraxas became her worst enemy in a quick second when he'd said, “It’s some girlish muggle romance.”

“Oh?” Tom said, smiling slowly. “What sort?”

”Dumbledore is always owling her them. Horrid things.” Abraxas said. Tom was listening but he was looking at Elizabeth. Her reaction was just growing more and more funny.

“Dumbledore?” Tom didn’t sound happy about that.

”They’re friends, I told you.” Abraxas said. So they’d discussed this before. Elizabeth turned her face and tried to gauge the time from the clock displayed at the face of Gringotts. She couldn’t see it from here.

”Friends?” Alphard said, sounding disgusted. “I couldn’t imagine worse company.”

“I could.” Elizabeth retorted defensively and then took a bite to keep her mouth shut. That was a mistake. She silently schooled her emotions back in order. Thankfully they didn’t catch on to the insinuation.

Tom did, his eyes darkening, but he said nothing. ”So, what book is it?” He just wasn’t letting the subject go.

Elizabeth had gotten fed up. Might as well get it over with. She retrieved the book from the deep pocket of her skirt and placed it on the table for Tom to read the title. It was well-worn and well-read.

“Pride and Prejudice?” He asked.

Elizabeth nodded but didn’t look at him.

”And do you fancy yourself an Elizabeth Bennet?” Tom asked. The sound of her name, her real name, snapped her head up. She looked him in the eyes with some sort of horror or shock, Tom didn’t know. Found it, he thought. She snatched the book up and put it back in her pocket.

”Don’t tell me you’ve read it, Tom,” Alphard said blandly.

Tom laughed. “Of course not. It is quite popular though. Girls talk about it all the time-- Elizabeth this and Mr. Darcy that.” When he said her name again he said it slower and more deliberately. She shivered. Justus and Alphard laughed. Elizabeth was reminded how dangerous this was. Tom. She wished to be away. She wished more than anything to shrink into the floor.

”Oh, don’t be embarrassed. It’s quite normal for girls to read romances.” Justus chided when he caught her mortified expression.

“Yes yes, very normal.” And Alphard said 'normal' like it was a horribly boring thing.

Perhaps it was time to go on the offensive. ”Are all Slytherins like you?” She asked sweetly, as if she were enjoying a pleasant conversation with good company. Her voice was even and calm, and it brought more strength to her than she thought it would.

”Oh, no,” Alphard scoffed. He looked all too happy to be on this subject, just as Elizabeth had hoped.

”Nobody is quite like us.” Tom said. Us as if they were so high up nobody could touch them. Superiority saturated his words. Elizabeth supposed it to be true against her better judgement. They all flaunted an air of smugness now. Like they shared a great and terrible secret. Elizabeth knew they did. And she knew what it was.

”Not in all of Hogwarts? What about the other houses?”

”Slytherin is the only house worth any interest.” Abraxas commented swiftly. They nodded in agreement.

”Though, your Dumbledore is head of Gryffindor. Do you intend to divorce him?” Divorce. Ugh, she hated these stupid word games. But she had to play along.

”I don’t know which house I’ll choose quite yet. I’m still contemplating.” Elizabeth said, knowing that she was not supposed to have any prior inclination on how exactly houses are assigned.

“Houses are assigned, not chosen.” Abraxas said.

”Oh? How?” They all looked at each other.

“You’ll just have to find out in September.” Tom said slyly. Ugh. Whatever, she didn’t care. She didn’t have to, because she already knew.

”Very well.”

Alphard deflated. He had clearly wanted to lord it over her head. Elizabeth certainly wouldn’t beg for information she was already privy to. Her lack of interest bored them all. All except for Tom, as always. Tom never seemed to be disinterested. How could Elizabeth garner his disinterest? She contemplated this when Abraxas said the beautiful words.

”Alright fellows, It’s time for me to escort Aliena back.” He stood, and Elizabeth wasted no time standing too. She grabbed her package and guitar swiftly.

“What a bore you are, Abraxas. Do stay longer.” Alphard complained.

No, Elizabeth thought.

”Yes, do stay.” Tom urged in that lilting tone.

Absolutely not, Elizabeth thought.

“I’m afraid we can’t. I’ll see you boys in a few days.”

Elizabeth smiled at them all and bid them a happy goodbye. Happy that she was finally leaving, but happy nonetheless.

The sound of Tom's voice uttering her name- her real name- was branded onto her mind. She couldn't forget how close he had been. And it reminded her more thoroughly of her newest mission. Get Tom to bore of me, she thought, replaying the words in her mind. Get him away. Blend into the crowd. Keep your head down. And when he is utterly blind, finish the job.

Chapter Text

The goodbyes were swift and emotionless.

She’d gotten plenty of lectures in her time leading up to the first day how how to act. Of course, they were all on the same subject— bring honor to the Malfoy name.

The Hogwarts Express gleamed before her, its scarlet engine billowing steam that curled around the bustling crowd of students and parents. She clutched her trunk cart tightly, feeling the weight of her new life pressing down upon her. All of her belongings rolled before here, stacked in trunks and suitcases. Her guitar case, and Artemis curled in her crate sat on top.

Abraxas lead her to where students dropped off their luggage, and she carried only Artemis and the smallest suitcase, which had her Hogwarts robes inside.

Abraxas stood tall at her side, his presence somehow both comforting and suffocating. "Remember," he murmured, his voice low and stern, "Father anticipates you uphold the family name. Just because we're not at the manor doesn't mean you're free from our expectations."

Elizabeth nodded, her throat tight. She yearned to break away, to find her own path on this journey, but she knew the watchful eyes of the Malfoys would follow her even here.

As Elizabeth moved towards the train, a familiar figure caught her eye. Tom Riddle strode through the crowd, his presence parting the sea of students effortlessly. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Elizabeth felt a chill run down her spine. She quickened her pace, desperate to find an empty compartment, Abraxas hot on her heels.

As they entered the train, Elizabeth turned to walk down the long hall to where private compartments lay in wait for her to hole herself away from Abraxas’ oppressive hold.

Before she could make her great escape, she felt a hand on her arm. She turned, and Abraxas was tugging her down the opposite way where more ornate and well-furnished cars waited. “This way,” he said, as if she had just gotten the direction wrong.

She tugged her arm away. “I don’t have to sit with you.” She said firmly and desperately.

”You’re my cousin and a member of my house. It is my duty to-,” he started.

”Oh come off it. We’re at school now. You don’t even like me.”

”My opinions on you do not matter and I don’t-…,” he struggled to find words. “I don’t dislike you.”

That's practically the same thing, Elizabeth thought.

“We don’t have to be friends to follow your father’s orders.” And that would have been perfect, if fate didn’t have other plans. He stepped back in abject defeat. She turned, ready to go her own way.

Until she slammed into the chest of another person looming behind her.

"Miss Greengrass," Tom's smooth voice sent shivers through her. "Why don't you join us in the first car? I'm sure your cousin would agree it's the most... suitable place for you."

Elizabeth looked up, finding herself face to face with the future Dark Lord. His dark eyes bore into hers, a mixture of curiosity and something darker swirling in their depths. She opened her mouth to refuse, but Abraxas's words spoke behind her.

“Right. Let’s go.” He said, firmer this time. As if Tom’s presence encouraged his resolve.

And stuck between them, Elizabeth didn’t have any option. She knew they’d somehow rebuke any sort of excuse.

With a resigned nod, Elizabeth allowed Abraxas to guide her to the first car. It was filled with familiar faces - Dorian Nott, Wulfric Mulciber, Rodrick Lestrange. The air was thick with tension and unspoken power dynamics.

As she settled into an empty row of seats and moved closest to the window, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel like a lamb among wolves. She knew the dangers that lurked behind their polite smiles and refined manners. Tom took the seat across from her, his gaze never leaving her face, and Abraxas sat to her right after putting the both of their suitcases up onto the compartment above them. Artemis’ crate sat between her and Abraxas.

"So, Aliena," he began, his voice soft but commanding attention, "tell us about your expectations for Hogwarts. I'm sure you must be... excited to finally attend."

Elizabeth met his gaze steadily, her mind racing. She knew she was walking a dangerous line, but she couldn't show weakness. Not here, not now. "I'm looking forward to it," she said carefully. "After all, Hogwarts is where we truly discover who we are, isn't it?"

A small smile played on Tom's lips, and Elizabeth couldn't shake the feeling that she had just passed some sort of test.

“Well, hello there.” Alphard Black's voice interrupted them, and Elizabeth jumped, just realizing her and Tom had been looking into each other’s eyes for far too long. She looked up to see his handsome but unsettling face. Just great. Justus Rosier and followed closely behind him and also said his greetings, his blonde hair swept back gracefully. Thankfully, nobody had tried to kiss her hand.

They took their seats swiftly.

More approached.

Marius Avery and his mousy form, Elizabeth recognized. The girl next to him she did not. She looked similar to Marius, but had an easy charming smile that Elizabeth was sure Marius could never deign to try. Her gaze immediately zoned in on Elizabeth and her smile faltered slightly.

”Marius, Geneva. Good to see you.” Tom said kindly. Geneva, the girl, looked to Tom and her smile beamed. She wore her medium length hair very prettily in a wavy, pin-curl style that Elizabeth had seen many girls sporting on the platform and in the London streets. She also had red lipstick on. Elizabeth's mind flashed back to her previous dashed hopes about wearing makeup. So it was just her, then, that wasn't aloud to wear makeup. It made her feel rather childish.

”Tom! Lovely to see you.” Marius gazed at Alphards spot next to Tom enviously and then glanced at Elizabeth like he’d rather her disappear. Elizabeth shared the sentiment. She nodded at him with a gentle smile in greeting.

”Geneva, this is my cousin, Aliena.” Abraxas said, introducing Elizabeth to the girl. “She’ll be a sixth year,” Abraxas added.

”A sixth year?” The girl echoed.

”How do you do?” Elizabeth asked, but was too far away to shake hands, which was the normal etiquette amongst women.

“Geneva is my sister. She’s a year below us.” Marius explained, still standing awkwardly in the aisle.

Geneva gave a strained smile. Elizabeth realized the room in their compartment was getting quite close, so she took Artemis’ crate and moved to set it on the floor between her and Tom. Tom took it immediately before she could set it on the floor, ever the gentleman. As he set it down on the floor between their feet, a deep hiss sounded from within the cage.

”Oh, sorry. She’s scared.” Elizabeth tried to amend her cat’s behavior. Tom smiled and clasped his hands over his knee like it didn’t bother him one bit. Abraxas had scooted over to fill the space, his thigh barely an inch from Elizabeth's even though she was pressed against the wall, and Marius Avery fell into place at the end. There was no room for Geneva. This car was open and nice, with no privacy. The cushions were a deep velvet green and had sleek mahogany table at the center. They were much larger than any she’s seen in movies or imagined in the books.

Geneva still looked a bit put-out. Had Elizabeth taken her usual spot? Her stomach plummeted. I don’t want to be here.

Another girl approached. She was gorgeous, blonde, and had incredible bone structure. She looked androgenous in the same way Justus did, but also wore beautiful jewelry and makeup. She could have stepped right out of a hollywood film. She looked over.

“My twin, Amabel.” Justus offered. No wonder Elizabeth had thought they looked alike. Either twin could change their hair or clothes and look exactly like the other. Practically identical.

“You’re in my seat.” Amabel said coldly to Elizabeth with no introduction.

Fuck.

Elizabeth’s heart was in her feet. So this is whose seat she’d stolen. “You could always sit in my lap,” Rodrick Lestrange said cheekily to Amabel.

“This is my cousin, Aliena.” Abraxas said, frosty from Amabel’s rudeness.

Amabel evaluated her anew. “I read the Prophet,” was all she said. Great.

“Oo you have a few fans yet,” Justus said, wagging his eyebrows. Amabel frowned.

Elizabeth ignored him. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave-,” she started to stand.

“Sit.” Tom said sharply at the same time that Abraxas grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. Tom and Abraxas met eyes, and Abraxas looked away first.

Tom turned to Amabel and Geneva standing in the aisle. “There’s room right over there.” He said, gesturing to the empty compartment across the aisle behind them. Geneva and Amabel cast Elizabeth cool glances. Geneva was the first to turn, but Amabel paused to give a quick kiss to Rodrick’s cheek. It surprised Elizabeth. She thought Rodrick’s jest from earlier was just that— a jest. But Rodrick smiled at her as she exited. An item, then.

”They’re engaged,” Abraxas whispered to Elizabeth, who nodded in understanding. Engaged at sixteen. She was truly in another world.

Just when Elizabeth thought everything was settled, more strangers entered the fray.

The first three to walk in looked strikingly similar. All had deep raven hair and that sharp aristocratic look about them. Pale skinned and equally beautiful in measure. The tallest girl glanced over, looking at Alphard, and said “You shouldn’t run off like that. Mother was angry.”

Alphard waved a dismissive hand.

The girl looked around and nodded a greeting to everybody. Her gaze snagged on Elizabeth but didn’t linger. Like she could care less about who Elizabeth was or what she was doing in the boys’ compartment. The girl behind her pressed her hand into her back, urging them forward. They continued on. ”That's Walburga, Alphard’s sister. She’s head girl. And Lucretia, their cousin. The two of them are best friends. Lucretia’s little brother, Orion, is behind them. He's the Black heir. Inherits the title, and all the main properties and everything.”

Sure enough a slightly shorter boy followed behind them, but when he caught sight of Geneva and Amabel in the opposite compartment he entered with ease.

Elizabeth leaned into Abraxas' ear and asked, "Why isn't Alphard the heir? He's older...," 
"Alphard is the oldest son in his family, but not to the main line. Orion's father is the current heir in line, and then Orion after him. The current head of house is Alphard's great uncle."

"What about Alphard's family? Does that mean they have to ask for money?" Elizabeth whispered curiously. If Orion's grandfather owned everything, wasn't that a bit... emasculating to Alphard's father? 

"Not exactly. They had inheritances of their own, and Alphard's father Pollux receives yearly income from Sirius II." 
"Sirius II?" Elizabeth whispered quickly. "The current head. Orion's grandfather," Abraxas explained. 

”So confusing...” Elizabeth said before she could catch herself.

Alphard nodded in bored agreement, having tuned into Abraxas' explaining of Alphard's family. "I've got another younger brother, too-- Cygnus. He's a right brat, he is." 

"How old is he?" Elizabeth asked Alphard curiously, but her mind was elsewhere. She was lingering on the thought of two of them— Orion and Walburga. They were Sirius and Regulus’ parents. Cousins. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. And Orion was much younger than her, Elizabeth thought.

"He's five." Alphard responded.

But Elizabeth was taking in the thin boy, Orion Black-- heir to the great and noble house, and tried to imagine him marrying that severe girl Walburga.

The last to follow was close behind Orion. He was more brutish and short, and distinctly not a Black. “And Antonin Dolohov. He and Orion are friends with Geneva— they’re all fifth years. Lucretia and Walburga are seventh years.”

“I can’t possibly keep up,” she whispered into Abraxas’ ear so nobody heard her. Abraxas smiled down at her and nodded. “It’s alright. You’ll learn.” His voice was surprisingly softer than normal.

Tom stared them down and Abraxas shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Elizabeth simply looked out the window, trying not to listen to the boisterous conversation that had started amongst the boys.

It felt like forever, but the train finally lurched forward. The excitement in the air grew more palpable, and students conversations rose to a higher volume.

This was supposed to be a joyous occasion. It was supposed to be fun, riding to Hogwarts, getting candy from the trolley, changing into her robes for the first official time.

And they had stolen it from her. Abraxas and Tom had stolen that. Now she was stuck in a pit of vipers, praying not to be spoken to.

She clenched her jaw and watched London fly by.

Tom, a villian forever, dragged Elizabeth’s fears to the surface

Tom's voice cut through the noise, commanding attention once again. "So, Aliena," he said, his dark eyes fixed on her, "What subjects are you most looking forward to at Hogwarts?"

Elizabeth turned from the window, meeting Tom's gaze. She carefully considered her response, aware of the weight her words carried in this company. "I'm particularly interested in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts," she replied, her voice steady despite her nerves. "I've always found the practical application of magic fascinating."

Alphard Black leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, eh? Planning on fighting off some dark wizards, are we?" He was alluding to what had happened to Aliena at the hands of Grindelwald. It seemed Alphard's tact never improved. Elizabeth concluded it was entirely intentional.

Elizabeth's lips curved into a small smile, devoid of any resentment or hatred. "One never knows when such skills might come in handy, Black. It's always best to be prepared."

Tom's eyebrow raised slightly at her response. "Indeed," he murmured, his tone unreadable. "Preparation is key in all aspects of life."

Abraxas shifted beside Elizabeth, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Aliena has excelled in her studies," he interjected. "She did even better on the O.W.L.s than I did.”

“Really? I’m sure your father was happy about that,” Wulfric Mulciber remarked severely.

Abraxas bristled. “I'm sure she'll be a credit to Slytherin house."

"Assuming she's sorted into Slytherin," Rodolphus Lestrange drawled from across the compartment. "Though I can't imagine a Malfoy ending up anywhere else."

Elizabeth felt that like a sharp prick to her finger. "I’m not a Malfoy," she said quickly. 

Mulciber and Lestrange looked to each other with sly smiles, as if they knew something Elizabeth didn’t.

Tom's eyes narrowed slightly at her words. "Surely you don't doubt your place among us, Aliena?" His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that made her skin prickle.

Before she could respond, the trolley witch appeared. "Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked cheerfully, momentarily breaking the tension.

As the others began to rummage for coins and place their orders, Elizabeth caught Tom's eye once more. The look he gave her was calculating, assessing. She knew that her every word and action were being scrutinized, filed away for future reference.

The journey to Hogwarts had only just begun, and already Elizabeth felt as though she were navigating a minefield. With everything she had, she wished she wouldn't be sorted into Slytherin.

Abraxas asked if she wanted anything. “Chocolate frog.” He nodded and paid for her. As she opened it, she watched the frog squirm. She was about to grab it before it could jump away, but it leapt with fervor. Right onto Tom’s lap. They all looked over like she’d slapped the Pope.

Tom grabbed it before it could jump anywhere else. It stilled in his hand and turned back to solid chocolate. He passed it over to her, and she took it carefully enough not to touch his skin. She didn’t want to eat it now, but had to. She took a bite off the head. Tom brought his thumb to his lips and licked off a bit of melted chocolate. She quickly looked away.

”Ah, it’s a sign.” Abraxas said, leaning over to look at her card. Elizabeth looked down at it, where a small Salazar Slytherin gleamed up at her— hideous and bald and wearing green.

She scoffed.

”Oh, he’s quite rare!” Marius said excitedly. The boys all laughed at Avery, who turned red. ”You’re such a child, Avery!”

Elizabeth sighed. “You can have him,” she said reaching to pass over the card. The boys laughed harder. Avery was clearly too embarrassed, because he shook his head 'no'.

She looked down at the card, not sure what to do with it. She glanced at Tom, who wasn’t laughing, but looking at the card with distinct interest.

”Here, you have it. You rather look alike.” She remarked, tossing him the card so he couldn’t say no. Some of the laughter quieted, and Elizabeth could feel eyes on her.

”What?” She asked, realizing she made a grave mistake. She looked back to Tom who was staring at her with a dark, dangerous gaze.

”Has.. nobody ever called you ugly before? It was just a joke,” she muttered, looking down at her hands in her lap. The chocolate frog was abandoned in the package.

Alphard barked out a laugh, clapping Tom on the shoulder, and the others lightened the air with their chuckles. “Ugly! I daresay that would be a first for you, wouldn’t it, Tom?” The idea was absurd, which they found funny, but there was still a hint of something unspoken beneath the surface. Tom only tolerated it because it masked the truth of his heritage, but Alphard quickly with took his hand, sensing Tom’s anger.

Tom leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he turned the card in his slender hands.

“Do you find me ugly, Aliena?” He asked slowly, the words rolling off his tongue like thick draping velvet. God, that was impossible. The way he spoke could take stone and turn it to putty. And what he was doing was a calculated attack. Surely it would have worked on her- it would have worked on anyone- if Elizabeth didn’t know the truth of his sinister intentions. He was so handsome it was ludacris to deny it. Elizabeth had never seen someone so beautiful in her life, and he knew it. There was nothing worse than a handsome boy knowing exactly how handsome he was.

”I have eyes, Riddle.” Elizabeth said. 

He tilted his head as she said his last name.

“You’re handsome enough, but-,” she was interrupted by him. The tension could be cut with a knife.

”But?” his expression had ever so slightly shifted, a shadow now cast over those fathomless brown eyes.

”Not handsome enough to tempt you, eh?” Abraxas said cheekily. Elizabeth looked over at him in shock. He matched her gaze, and she suddenly knew her immediate thought was true. It was a quote from Pride and Prejudice. 

And he’d read it. It was so absurd and unlike the idea she had of Abraxas in her head. She scoffed, an easy smile overtaking her lips. Abraxas was growing stranger by the day.

She shook her head and turned back to Tom with a newfound calmness. He looked angrier now, but it didn’t put her off one bit. It was best to be overlooked and undermined. And her next response would fit the picture perfectly.

“I’m already in love with someone,” she said.

The entire compartment howled, all their words overtaken by one other’s. Wulfric Mulciber looked miserable in the corner, like he could do with anything else.

“With whom?”

”Don’t tell me-,”

”A first love-,”

Elizabeth silenced them as she continued, doing her best to look shy as she wrung her hands in her lap. The blush on her cheeks did well, but rather from love it was from the embarrassment of all the attention on her.

And maybe, a bit, it was from love. She distantly remembered a boy back home. Her real home, in another world. A boy who never looked twice at her.

“He’s from back home. In Sweden,” she added swiftly. The car deflated and she continued.

“Oh how boring,” Justus remarked, because it was someone they didn’t know.

”Did he die?” Alphard asked eagerly, as if this wasn’t a totally cruel thing to say.

Elizabeth sighed and wasn’t falsifying her forlornness.

“He is dead.”

Or at least, he wouldn’t be born for another few decades, so it was partially true. Even if he could be born in this world. “And he didn’t love me anyway.”

”How pitiful,” Alphard said, suddenly bored. The conversation moved on.

Tom said quietly and very slowly, “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Was all she said back.

Because surly true love was such a subject that Tom could never fathom to understand. One that he did not respect in the slightest. And surely unrequited love would be the most pitiful of all, in his grand opinion.

Elizabeth was sure her response couldn’t have been better.

The rest of the ride went by as well as could be expected. The boys conversation moved onto more boyish things— quidditch, girls, gossip, politics. They thankfully excluded Elizabeth in the way that most groups of boys liked to exclude girls from conversation. Elizabeth was glad for it, and had taken to gazing at the scenery or reading her book on defense (Self-Defensive Spellwork by Emelee Scourgbottom).

She could occasionally feel the weight of Tom’s stare or Abraxas’ glances, but the ride was overall eventless.

She went to the bathroom to change into her school robes, which was difficult to do in such a small bathroom and because her robes were so complicated, with a corset up the back and waist belt. Her uniform was all black, unlike the other students around her who all had green lining in their cloaks and Slytherin badges stitched into the fabric. Some even had embellished hems. The girls had pretty silver and green scarves or bows peeking out from their high collars, and they had already put on their small black pointed hats. They were rather flattering despite Elizabeth preconceived idea that the hat being a part of the uniform would be annoying. None of the boys wore their hats yet, but they similarly had green and silver ties. Everyone was heavily layered and just as polished as she thought they would be.

Elizabeth lingered in the aisle before any of them could see her quite yet and put the hat on, tugging down the rim. It was a more feminine style than the boys’, but she had left the bathroom so she had no mirror to see if she looked silly or not.

“It’s crooked,” A voice sounded behind her. Abraxas’ towering figure tilted the rim ever-so-slightly. “Thanks,” she said quietly and let him lead the way back to their seats. He looked rather spiffy in his robes, with a sleek green vest and his silver pocket watch chain dangling across his chest.

Before she could turn to walk into the compartment, Amabel and Geneva stepped out in front of her path.

”Aliena.” Amabel said coldly. Geneva crossed her arms from behind Amabel’s shoulder. Oh great.

“Yes?” Elizabeth asked with a pleasing smile. She wondered what the best way to approach this could possibly be. If she were nice, she might be able to keep her head low enough to scrape by without complications— at least until she was sorted and could escape this serpent hell.

“Will you join us in our compartment?” Amabel said it was saturated sweetness. Geneva tilted up her nose, but couldn’t exactly look down on Elizabeth because she was easily a few inches taller than both of them.

“Why would she do that?” Abraxas asked. He had returned when he realized Elizabeth hadn’t been following him.

“Oh come on are you her babysitter? I just want to get to know her.” Amabel said innocent and playful.

Abraxas, thankfully, wasn’t buying it for a second. ”You can get to know her after she’s sorted into Slytherin.” He said, gesturing for Elizabeth to come over.

When Elizabeth was in range, he grabbed her forearm.

”Oh? How can you be so sure she will be-?,” Geneva started.

Elizabeth smiled at them, which faltered Geneva’s sentence. ”Abraxas is being hopeful, but you’re right. I probably won’t be. I’m sure I’ll see you both around Hogwarts though, anyhow.”

Amabel and Geneva were taken aback, probably having expected Elizabeth to either get offended or defensive or both. ”W-well I’m sure we will.” Amabel said. And Elizabeth turned to follow Abraxas back into the compartment and sat in place. The sky outside the window had darkened and they had to be close to the school now. The stars were bright and the sky was clear of clouds. A full moon illuminated the rolling rocky hills of the highlands.

“What did you mean you probably won’t be?” Abraxas hissed to her, angry.

Tom entered, and sat down with a flourish of dark and green robes. His vest was black and starched to perfection, with perfectly white undershirt and dark green tie embellished with a silver collar pin that read 'Prefect' and that gold ring gleaming on his finger. He was a prince brought to life, truly. His uniform was the least elaborate of anyone, and yet he was living proof that true elegance followed the rule that ‘less was better’.

The other boys were talking, but Tom seemed to icline himself to Elizabeth and Abraxas’ conversations. Uninvited.

”I just mean that I won’t.” Elizabeth countered, tossing her long wavy hair behind her back and twisting a piece around her finger, as she did out of habit.

”Won’t what?” Tom asked. He kept his voice low enough so as to not include the others.

“She just told Amabel and Geneva that she won’t be a Slytherin.” Abraxas responded quietly and unwillingly.

Tom raised a dark brow to Elizabeth, clasping his hands together and resting them on his thigh. He looked like a dean getting ready to give Elizabeth detention. Her eyes flickered to the silver prefect brooch on his cloak’s breast. Perhaps he would.

“I’m not ambitious in the slightest and you know that, Abraxas. No matter how much you and your parents wish it to be true, you have to know that I could never be sorted into Slytherin.”

Abraxas sucked in a breath with a disgusted expression. He knew she was right, which was perhaps making it worse.

“Not ambitious? How strange.” Tom said.

“It’s not strange.” Elizabeth countered.

”You seem driven to me,” Tom remarked.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “You don’t know me. Just ask Abraxas. I hardly care for anything even remotely exceptional.”

Abraxas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, which was a ‘yes’.

“You mean to tell me you’re apathetic about your future success?” Tom continued. He was growing more and more stiff and disgusted too. Perfect. Elizabeth’s lack of ambition certainly would benefit her well.

”She’s apathetic about everything.” Abraxas grumbled.

”Everything?” Tom countered, staring into her soul.

Elizabeth shrugged. “Most things. Perhaps that’s why I’m insane.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Tom sneered lightly. Was it possible to sneer lightly? Tom made it so. “Hardly. Apathy can be useful, in certain situations. Though, I’m not sure an excess is beneficial to your future.”

“Good thing I don’t care about my future.” Elizabeth said and turned to open her book.

”If not your future then what do you care about?” Tom pried. He seemed miffed about something.

”I care for nothing but worldly pleasures and over-indulgence.”

”You worked hard this summer, according to Abraxas.” Tom countered.

”It is better to follow orders than face the consequences.”

”You fancy yourself a follower?”

”A sheep in a flock.” Elizabeth confirmed blandly.

“A black sheep,” Abraxas muttered. He was still upset about Elizabeth embarrassing him, and clearly dreading the sorting ceremony to come.

Tom was deeply dissatisfied with this conversation, and for the first time, he was the one to turn away and look out the window with disinterest. Abraxas clenched his jaw and shifted in annoyance. Elizabeth’s heart soared, and she tilted her head so her hair concealed the tiny smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

The train slowed, slowed, slowed, and screeched to a stop. A blaring whistle sounded, and students all stood up to retrieve their things, excitement revitalizing once more.

Abraxas took Elizabeth's suitcase and his own, and didn’t let her carry it when she tried. Tom was already holding Artemis’ crate in his free hand when she turned to grab it.

“I can carry her.” Elizabeth tried.

Tom smiled at her tightly. ”It would be shameful of me to allow a young lady to carry her luggage.”

”She’s my cat.” Elizabeth said, like he was being ridiculous-- which he was.

“Precious cargo, Miss Greengrass. I assure you I’ll exercise the utmost care.”

There was a new air of separation between them all now. Like Elizabeth had taken one step back from this group of Slytherin boys. It seemed Elizabeth’s only tethers, Abraxas and Tom, were both offended by her intentions to not join Slytherin house. Good.

As they exited the train all of the boys put on their black pointed hats, which were slightly longer with wider rims and more pointed than the girls’. Elizabeth took notice that most students had embellished their hats in some sort of way with ribbons or brooches or something of the sort. Some boys even had leather bands with buckles or snakeskin. Elizabeth noticed that none of the Slytherin boys (the Knights of Walpurgis) took any part in this, but the girls very much did. And they did it very tastefully.

Elizabeth followed the surge of the crowd, to where the drop-off of bags were. Elizabeth craned her neck and looked as best she could for the castle, but all she could see was a thick tall tree line and stone path leading up to a roundabout of parked carriages, and the distant town of Hogsmeade beyond. Distantly in the moonlight, dark creatures looking like skeleton horses with thin, slippery pitch skin stood in the front of each carriage. Thestrals. She could see them.

Inwardly, Elizabeth knew that Aliena had seen death. The death of her sister, and the subsequent death of her parents. And in a way, Elizabeth herself had seen the death of Aliena. Still looming within her mind’s eye. She could see it and she could feel it just underneath the surface of her skin.

“First years, are over here, this way," a voice called. Elizabeth glanced over and watched as Tom carefully set Artemis on a large stack of animal crates-- hooting and hissing and meowing and croaking in a disheartening symphony. Before he caught her eye she quickly looked back at Abraxas. She let him lead the way.

The first years were being called loudly by a stout man wearing thick leather robes and sporting a short white hairstyle that stuck up straight like he’d been struck by lightning. He was covered in horrific facial scars, and one of his eyes was black and the other was a light mossy green. In the dark he could have been menacing, but Elizabeth was easily a foot taller than him. The first years were surely intimidated, all whispering and huddling together in a great clump.

“I’ll see you,” Elizabeth said dismissively to Abraxas. He hesitated like he had something to say but decided better and turned to stalk off back toward the river of older years.

The ride in the boats was marvelous. Elizabeth rode alone, the odd one out. She wanted to reassure the children that it would be alright. They were debating and whispering about what they would have to do in order to be sorted. Some fretted about it, and some were excited and smug. Elizabeth’s lantern swayed as the boat glided against the Black Lake.

It couldn’t have been more of a perfect night. It was a clear sky, with beautiful stars and constellations shining down on them. Finally after a long bend, Hogwarts in it’s mighty beauty came into stunning view.

Elizabeth felt a giddy strike of excitement flooding her blood. She pinched her arm to keep from squealing. This was it. This was everything she’d dreamed of and more.

The giant sharp castle itself was dark and mysterious, with blinking warm lights from endless windows and curling towers rising up toward the sky. Elizabeth watched on in awe, reminding herself with stark clarity to remember this moment. Remember this, when she was all alone in the world. Hogwarts loomed before her in the splendor of indescribable beauty and promise.

It in itself was her future. There was nothing else beyond it, and nothing else she could hope for. This was it.

She cynically thought, This is my ambition. It is simple and it is strange and it is somehow irrevocably mine.

Elizabeth clung to the sight even as the boats glided into a tunnel. She stared until it was totally out of sight. The boats came to stops at the edge of a canal, and she stepped out. She was so much taller than the rest, and the groundskeeper immediately took sight of her and gestured her forward, to the front of the crowd. ”You’d be sorted firs’.” He said in a thick accent.

She was still too elated by this moment that she didn’t mind one bit.

The thick doors swung open and a familiar tall man sporting immaculate robes in the design of a blazing fire stood waiting for them.

His twinkling blue eyes caught on her and he smiled. They shared a secret. She smiled back.

”Good evening, first years!” Dumbledore said with a clap. His presence commanded utmost attention and she could feel the first years behind her leaning forward to hold onto his words.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Our welcoming feast will begin soon. But before that, you will be sorted into your houses, which will be your home for the remainder of your stay here at Hogwarts.” He took a brief pause for effect, gazing over the faces of the new students.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup-- a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

They entered the castle and it was just as she had imagined, except more. The staircase was tall and long and humongous. The ceiling was so high she couldn’t even see the top within the great shadows above. The walls were lined with portraits, sporadically placed with no thought in mind. Giant stone pillars were alight with flames, illuminating their path. It smelled of stone and wetness and life. It smelt of warmth and food and wood and crackling fires. It felt like everything she’d ever wanted and never dreamed of attaining.

And the details of it all was something else entirely. There was so much that couldn't be described into words or picture. There was so much that felt new and familiar all in the same.

All of the students behind her were whispering noisily, debating the events the would occur and fretting over themselves and their newfound friends.

Dumbledore paused before the great doors, and said, “Now, if you will wait here and form a line. Your sorting will begin momentarily.”

Dumbledore disappeared into the shadows down a narrow dark corridor next to the closed entryway. The students fussed and murmured as they fitted into a line. Elizabeth turned back. Some of them were still clumped together. She looked at them with raised brows, unconsciously, and they all looked to her and immediately filtered into a strict line. As if she was a prefect or something. She hadn’t even meant to do that, but they were all looking to her like she was a person of authority. She supposed they would, given she was much older and at the head of the line.

Dumbledore returned, and said, “Good luck!”

Elizabeth wasn’t sure this would help the students nerves, because even her own stomach plummeted. And she even knew what was coming.

The Great Hall doors swung open and she followed Dumbledore as they strode through and took in the room.

The first thing she looked to was the enchanted ceiling, displaying that clear beautiful sky and the thousands of candles hovering over the hall. She marveled at the expanse— much larger than she’d imagined. The tables lined extensively with students and at the end was the great table with teachers lining the back. A great set of four hourglasses were on display at the back, and each upper bulb held beautifully colored gems.

A single rickety stool with a tattered hat sat, awaiting them.

Just as they’d gathered at the front, endless eyes boring into them (Elizabeth suspected much of them on her), a burst of movement erupted from the back any everybody turned. Ghosts streamed through the walls and open doorway. They glided through the air, pearly white and transparent and shouting theatrically. They all glided around the room and seemed to settle themselves among the fray. Many students chatted with them as if they were familiar old friends. Most ignored them all together and remained staring at the shocked and scared first years in expectation.

Elizabeth settled her breath. She wasn’t afraid of these ghosts. In fact, in her past life she’d never even believed in ghosts at all. But now, they were here and she knew they were harmless. They still unsettled her. Just slightly.

She’d turned back to the front, where the dusty old cap remained. The entire hall seemed to fall silent in baited breath. A great stitch in the hat opened up and began to sing.

”Come gather round, both young and bright,

It’s time to face your fateful night.

I’ve waited long, upon this stand,

To see which house shall take your hand.

I’ve seen the best, I’ve seen the worst,

The brave, the clever, and the cursed.

But worry not, for I can see,

The house that’s meant for you and me.

Shall it be Gryffindor, so bold,

Where daring hearts and courage hold?

With strength of will, they charge ahead,

In lion’s den, no fear to dread.

Or maybe Ravenclaw’s your place,

Where wisdom soars with eagle’s grace.

The thirst for knowledge never ends,

With clever minds and thoughtful friends.

Perhaps it’s Hufflepuff you’ll find,

Where kindness reigns, and hearts are kind.

Through patient toil and steady hand,

They build a bond like solid land.

Or is it Slytherin, my dear,

Where cunning thrives and none know fear?

The serpent's path is long and sly,

For those who dare to reach the sky.

So place me on, don’t be afraid,

Your destiny shall be displayed.

I’ll find the traits that lie within,

And choose the house where you’ll begin.

For Hogwarts holds a place for all,

Together strong, we’ll stand or fall.

Now come, young witch or wizard bright,

Your house awaits—tonight’s the night!”

Once he finished his song, the entire hall burst into rowdy applause, with hollars and hoops from the occasional rambunctious student. It finally quieted into expectant silence.

”When I call your name come up to the front and sit to be sorted,” Dumbledore instructed. ”But first!” he called out to the great crowd.

“A new transfer student is among us. Please come forth, Aliena Greengrass.” Dumbledore’s smile was true and his eyes creased at the corners, but she deeply wished he hadn’t said that. She wiped her sweaty hands on her robes and walked forward, schooling her features and reminding herself to stand tall with her chin up.

She sat on the stool facing the crowd and took her own hat off for Dumbledore to place the Sorting Hat. It spoke not out of the rip, but straight into her mind.

“Well, well, this is interesting. Two minds, or rather, two lives merged into one. You're not quite who you appear to be, are you? I see beneath the surface, to the real you—Elizabeth. You've been through much already, haven't you?” Elizabeth’s stomach dipped at her real name. She clutched the sides of the stool.

“There's a keen intelligence here, and a thirst for knowledge. You want to understand the world, and more importantly, your place in it. A curious mind like yours would thrive in Ravenclaw, with others who share that same hunger to learn.

Ambition? Yes, I see it—you're determined, and you have a strong will. But it's not just personal power that drives you. No, what really sets you apart is your courage. When pushed, you don’t back down. You stand tall, even when it’s difficult, even when the stakes are high.”

You're the kind of person who fights for what’s right, even if it costs you. There's bravery in you that I don't see often—unflinching when it matters most. And loyalty, too. You would stand by those you care about no matter the danger. That kind of resolve... well, it’s something Gryffindor could truly nurture.

You’re not afraid of hard choices, even if they scare you. No, I think it's clear where you belong.”

“Better be GRYFFINDOR!"

The Sorting Hat said the last declaration allowed, and most of the hall erupted into chaotic cheer. Elizabeth opened her eyes, which she hadn’t realized she’d been closing. Dumbledore took the hat off her head and smiled at her. Elizabeth let out a shaky laugh.

As she walked down the steps, toward the table lined with red, she looked over to the Slytherins.

Whispers rippled through the group, disbelief etched across their faces. The Greengrass family was one of the oldest, proudest pure-blood families, with deep roots in Slytherin. Every Greengrass for generations had been sorted into the house of cunning, ambition, and tradition. Elizabeth couldn’t see any familiar faces, but she knew they would be there. She knew that somewhere amongst the table, Abraxas and his friends were watching. Judging. 

Abraxas exchanged sharp glances with his friends.

The shock was evident in their eyes. "Impossible," Abraxas muttered under his breath. "A Greengrass, and she’s a... Gryffindor?"

Alphard snorted quietly, leaning closer to Lestrange. "So she has lost her mind. Gryffindor! Your parents will be furious, Abraxas. It’s a disgrace."

“I can’t believe it.” Abraxas said in agreement as they all continued to whisper among themselves.

Some of the younger Slytherins, still learning the pure-blood politics, looked confused but followed the lead of their housemates, glaring at the red-and-gold table where Aliena was heading. There was an unspoken rule about Slytherins: they stuck together, and anyone who broke from tradition, anyone who strayed, was considered a traitor. The fact that one of their own, with such a prestigious name, was walking toward the Gryffindor table felt like betrayal.

Tom Riddle, however, watched with an unreadable expression, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. He observed Aliena closely, his eyes narrowing. There was something strange about her, something that went beyond her break with family tradition. He didn’t share in the outrage of his housemates. If anything, her sorting intrigued him.

He knew there was more to Greengrass than met the eye.

But for now, the Slytherins had turned cold. Whispers of "blood traitor" and "disgrace" floated through the air, and they made no effort to hide their disdain. Elizabeth felt the weight of their stares on her back, knowing she had crossed a line that few dared to even approach.

I told you, I’m not one of you, Elizabeth thought. I'll never be one of you.

Chapter Text

As Elizabeth took her seat at the Gryffindor table, the Great Hall had quieted once more and each of the first year students were called up one by one.

Elizabeth glanced over at the students around her. She sat near where she thought those of her own age were, but she didn’t quite know who anybody was or what year they were in. She sat awkwardly and cheered along when students were called for Gryffindor house.

The Sorting Ceremony concluded, and Headmaster Armando Dippet rose to deliver his welcoming speech.

He was a short man-- totally bald with a floppy black hat larger than what suited him. He held a tall knotted and crooked staff that he used as a walking stick, and his white beard was so long it touched the floor. He looked frail and elderly, yet still was clearly well enough to speak loud and stand tall.

"Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! To our new faces, we extend a warm greeting, and to our returning students, welcome back. Before we begin our feast, I have a few announcements. As you all know- and yet I still must remind you each year- the forbidden forest is just that— forbidden. If any student is caught venturing into places they do not belong, I’m afraid it will not be me or my staff who will deal the consequences, but the wild and dangerous creatures within the dark wood."

This ominous statement was taken well by upperclassmen, who were bored and clearly had heard it all before. But the younger students looked at each other nervously.

The headmaster continued his speech.

“Now before we begin our feast: a few final words,”

Dippet continued. The students around Aliena groaned. Others put their heads in their hands.

Aliena quickly understood why.

“Ahem... As I was saying, a few final words...

It is my utmost pleasure to remind you all of the rich history that permeates these very walls. Did you know that the stone used to build this castle was quarried from the nearby mountains over a thousand years ago? Yes, indeed. Each block was carefully selected for its durability and magical properties. Speaking of which, I find it fascinating how the magical resonance of these stones has changed over the centuries. Why, just last summer, I spent countless hours measuring the thaumaturgical frequencies of various corridors. The results were, I must say, utterly riveting.

Now, onto the matter of our school's plumbing system. It's a marvel of magical engineering, dating back to the 18th century. The intricate network of pipes and enchanted water flow is a testament to the ingenuity of our forebears. I've prepared a comprehensive 200-page report on the subject, which I'd be delighted to share with anyone interested in the finer points of magical waste management...," He spoke so brutally slow, Elizabeth couldn't help but glance over at the older students around her. They were grimacing and yawning theatrically to one another.

"But I digress. Let us turn our attention to the fascinating world of magical fungi. The varieties growing in the damp corners of our dungeons are particularly noteworthy. Did you know that we have over 147 species of mold, each with its own unique magical properties? I've taken the liberty of categorizing them by color, scent, and thaumaturgical resonance. Perhaps we could spend the next hour or two discussing the subtle differences between the green-tinged Hogwarts Creeper and the more common Dungeon Dankweed?

Oh! And before I forget, I must address the pressing matter of proper quill maintenance. The art of quill selection and care is often overlooked in modern magical education, but I assure you, it is of utmost importance. The angle at which one trims a quill can significantly impact the quality of one's penmanship, not to mention the absorption rate of magical inks. I've prepared a series of diagrams illustrating the ideal trimming techniques for various feather types, which I'd be more than happy to demonstrate over the course of the next few hours..."

At this point, students were groaning even louder, with some falling asleep at their tables. Dippet, oblivious to the students' reactions, would continue droning on about increasingly mundane topics until someone- Professor Dumbledore- gently reminded him about the school song and the waiting feast.

"Ah, yes yes,” The headmaster said after Dumbledore’s whispers. The headmaster coughed and cleared his throat. “And now, let us sing the school song!"

The entire hall immediately erupted into a cacophony of melodies as students and staff sang without any indication of a start or any lyrics to read from at all. Elizabeth stood awkwardly, not knowing the words, and listened to the horrific colliding tunes and melodies. She eventually came to a joyful laugh when the entire hall’s tune rose up to somewhat gather together by the end of the final melody.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees

Our heads could do with filling,

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.”

After the song, Dippet waved his wand, and the tables fill with an array of delicious foods.

The golden plates in front of every student filled with a dazzling array of food in an instant, as if the dishes have materialized out of thin air. Juicy roast chickens, golden-brown and steaming, were piled high alongside tender cuts of beef and savory racks of lamb. Bowls of fluffy mashed potatoes sat next to dishes of roasted vegetables, glistening with butter. Platters of Yorkshire puddings, sausages, and gravy emerged, along with treacle tarts, jam roly-polys, and heaps of sticky toffee pudding, their sugary scents mingling with the savory aromas.

As Elizabeth began to eat, totally in awe of the food before her, she noticed the other sixth-year Gryffindor girls around her watching with curious unabashed eyes, blank yet deeply interested. It was totally unlike the Slytherin’s masked interest or hidden judgement.

As Elizabeth scooped chicken onto her plate, she found herself shifting under the unfamiliar gazes. The girl next to her, an asian petite girl with long straight black hair and a distinctive scar on her cheek, turned to her with a shy smile.

"Hi there, I'm Natasha Dunn. You must be new here?" she asked quietly.

Elizabeth nodded, grateful for the friendly gesture. "Yes, I'm Aliena Greengrass. It's my first year at Hogwarts."

A small pale brunette sitting across from them leaned in, her brown eyes sparkling with interest. "Oh we’ve heard of you. Read about you in the papers. What are you doing in Gryffindor?"

"Gaia!" Natasha hissed, but Elizabeth just smiled.

"It's alright," she assured them. "Yes, I’m sure it must be quite a shock. A Greengrass in Gryffindor,” she scoffed and looked down as if the idea were silly. But it was just pretend— Elizabeth couldn’t care less. She continued, “But the Sorting Hat put me here, so I guess I'm breaking tradition."

A curly-haired girl with smooth copper-colored skin nearby chuckled. "Good for you. I'm Berniece Craft, by the way. And this one," she nudged the brunette, "is Gaia Lavender. Don't mind her lack of tact."

Lavender Brown flashed in Elizabeth’s mind, but no, Lavender was this girl’s last name. They couldn’t be related.

Gaia rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Oh, come on. You can't tell me you're not curious."

As the girls chatted, Elizabeth learned two more names. Terra Prewett-- a tall, athletic-looking girl with dark brown curls cut short in pixie cut. And Saoirse Hawks-- whose strawberry-blonde hair caught the candlelight, and whose freckles were too numerous to count.

"So, Aliena," Terra said, leaning in, "what did you think of Dippet's speech? Riveting stuff about magical plumbing, wasn't it?"

Saoirse Hawks snorted. "I thought I was going to fall asleep. Did you see Merrythought’s face when he started on about quill maintenance?"

The girls dissolved into giggles, recounting their favorite moments from the headmaster's long-winded address. Some boys nearby chided in and gave their poorly exaggerated impressions. When Elizabeth laughed they inclined their heads like flowers leaning toward sunlight, not waiting any longer to be introduced.

“Welcome to Gryffindor,” the handsomest of the boys said first. He was dark-haired and light eyed— a particular weakness of Elizabeth’s. Brutally handsome in every fashion. He seemed tall and thin, but his shoulders were broad enough to hint that he must have some muscle hidden beneath the extensive layers of the school uniform. A prefect badge gleamed on his chest. “I’m Edward Spencer.”

Elizabeth nodded a greeting, cheeks rosy from the warm environment and food filling her belly. “Aliena Greengrass.”

Another boy with fiery red hair and ivory skin whistled across from Edward. He had a short thin scar cutting through his eyebrow and thick fingers with calloused hands. “Greengrass, eh? Brilliant! I’m Harvey Weasley.”

Weasley?! Elizabeth thought. Is he Arthur’s father, or brother? Perhaps a cousin. She couldn’t sort out the timelines, and would have to start writing everything down to sort it all out.

“These two are on the quidditch team,” Saoirse explained in her thick irish accent, gesturing to the two boys with her fork. “And those are a problem.” She added, gesturing to some other boys who were getting into a rowdy debate on the pros and cons of entering the forbidden forest. There were five boys in total who seemed to gather together in the same ways these girls seemed to. “We’re all the sixth years.”

Elizabeth tried to catalogue the faces in her memory, but it was becoming difficult between the information she was now flooded with and the information she’d garnered on the train.

“I’m afraid I’m not very good with names,” she said, looking down in embarrassment.

”Oh it’s alright!” Berniece, the black girl with curly hair, said reassuringly.

”Yes, we shall be sure to remind you.” Terra confirmed dutifully.

”Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “I- I don’t know if it’s too early to admit, but I’m already grateful I was sorted here and not…,” She trailed off.

”Bah! Of course you are!” Harvey Weasley said happily, slinging his arm around Berniece's shoulder. She made a disgusted noise and slung it off. “You’re getting gravy on my robes!”

“Sorry, Bea,” He said apologetically.

”Don’t worry, I can only imagine how nightmarish it must be to be surrounded by Slytherins all the time.” Terra agreed, sounding disgusted by having to say the word ‘Slytherin’.

”They’re not all bad,” Saoirse said.

“I had to sit with them on the train over. My cousin dragged me around like a sack of potatoes,” Elizabeth confided. “It was mortifying.”

”Ah! You’re cousin is-,” Saoirse started excitedly, and Gaia cut her off, leaning forward as if it were a great precious secret, “Abraxas Malfoy!”

So they already knew.

Elizabeth grimaced, but they sounded distinctly excited about it.

”So you sat with them all the way here?! How exciting,” Berniece said. She was leaning a bit forward with a twinkle in her eye. In fact, all of the girls were, but Terra and Natasha at least reigned it in slightly.

”More like terrible. Worst company if you ask me,” Weasley said. Edward scorned him, “Harvey, that’s rude.”

“Yes very rude, how dare you insult her precious cousin?” Terra said, half-sarcastically. Elizabeth might have taken offense if the proceeding questions didn’t explain the girls’ true thoughts on the matter.

"So, tell us," Gaia leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, "What was it like sitting with them? Did you talk to Tom Riddle?"

Elizabeth blinked, surprised by the sudden interest. "Well, yes, I did. He was... polite, I suppose." Her tone gave her away, but they didn’t seem to care.

Saoirse sighed dreamily. "He's so handsome, isn't he? And brilliant too."

"Oh, come off it," Berniece rolled her eyes. "He's a Slytherin, Saoirse. And you know what they say about Slytherins."

“They're all nasty gits.” Harvey said scathingly. That had to be personal. Even Edward didn’t object, and nodded once in agreement.

Natasha, who had been quiet, spoke up softly. "Not all Slytherins are bad, Berniece. We shouldn't judge an entire house."

"Easy for you to say," Harvey chimed in, his mouth full of potatoes. "You haven't been on the receiving end of their hexes during Quidditch matches."

Edward cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back. "So, Aliena, what do you think of Hogwarts so far? It must be quite different from what you're used to."

Elizabeth nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "It's... overwhelming, to be honest. But in a good way. Everything is so magical and grand."

"Wait till you see the moving staircases," Terra grinned, "And Nearly Headless Nick is our house ghost, he's quite friendly."

"Nearly Headless, hm?" Elizabeth asked, feigning slight confusion.

"Oh, you'll see," Gaia giggled. "Just don't ask him how he can be 'nearly' headless during dinner, if you want to keep your food down. Trust me on that one."

As the conversation flowed, Elizabeth found herself relaxing. The Gryffindors were boisterous and open, so different from the guarded interactions she was used to. It was refreshing, if a bit overwhelming.

"So, Aliena," Saoirse piped up again, "any other juicy details about your train ride with the Slytherins? We're dying to know!"

Elizabeth hesitated, not wanting to gossip but also eager to fit in with her new housemates. "Well, there was this one moment... I called Tom.. ugly."

Tom. She realized she used his first name too late. Whoops. Harvey barked out laughter and Edward did too, in a more refined manner. The girls watched her with rapturous disbelief that evolved into laughter too. ”Ugly?!” Gaia asked in absurdity. Terra was shaking her head, growing more and more hysterical as she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“You’re homosexual?!” Saoirse asked in a whisper low enough that only the group could hear. Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m not gay.”

“She didn’t ask if you were happy. She asked if your homosexual,” Gaia said in exasperation. They were all watching with interest for Elizabeth’s response.

“Er, right.. I’m not homosexual.” Elizabeth confirmed. She thought this conversation was a much welcomed change from the suppressive ones of the Malfoy manor or the Knights of Walpurgis.

“Dammit all.” Terra hissed, looking like she’d lost a bet.

Berniece slapped Terra lightly upside the head. “She can’t help her sexuality just the same as you cant, little pouf.” She said the slur in endearment, which caught Elizabeth off guard.

”It doesn’t hurt to hope.” Terra lamented gloomily.

”You’re ga-er, homosexual?” Elizabeth asked, genuinely curious. All eyes turned to her, a hint of heaviness behind them. Analyzing.

”Yes.” Terra said firmly, sitting up a bit straighter and looking Elizabeth in the eyes.

”R-right on, then.” Elizabeth said.

Elizabeth had never had to confirm she wasn’t homophobic before. Saoirse barked out a laugh and slapped Elizabeth on her back. Elizabeth was surprised. Such things were totally unladylike. Ms. Mollin would blow a gasket. Well… Ms. Mollin wasn’t here.

Berniece wrapped an arm around Terra and rubbed her knuckles in her hair. They were acting like boys, which Elizabeth missed. It was so refreshing. ”She’s our homo.” Berniece said jokingly. Terra shoved her off with a groan and straightened out her hair with her hands.

“So tell us, Aliena, what classes did you take the O.W.L.s for?” Gaia asked.

“Oh, yes, and what classes will you be taking this year?” Natasha asked. Her large monolid eyes were probably the prettiest thing about her, and she looked up at Elizabeth in genuine wonder.

”Well, all of the core classes, of course,” Elizabeth started. “Defense, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, History of Magic, Herbology. And then my Aunt had me sign up for Advanced Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.”

“Wow! That’s such a difficult schedule. Training to be the Minister for Magic?” Gaia asked playfully.

Elizabeth laughed. “No, I actually don’t quite know what I want to do yet.”

“Really? You’re already in your sixth year!” Terra exclaimed.

”Oh, she has plenty of time to decide.” Saoirse reasoned.

”I think it’s brilliant you’re taking so many lessons. I couldn’t,” Natasha admitted. She was soft-spoken, but sweet and yet still spoke her mind when she wanted to.

“Well, you know how these ancient and noble houses are. Always striving for greatness,” Elizabeth said this last part sarcastically, and the girls giggled as if she’d said a curse word.

“Don’t get yourself caught talking like that in front of your cousin and his Slytherin buddies.” Edward said.

”Yes, we wouldn’t want to get into a fight on your behalf,” Harvey said, lightly hitting Edward’s shoulder across the table like that was exactly what they did want to do.

”Oh, come on I’m a prefect. Don’t act like a fool this year.” Edward said moodily. Elizabeth could imagine Harvey getting his friend into all sorts of trouble.

“Well, if you had your choice, what extracurriculars would you take?”

Elizabeth smiled and looked down at her plate, a bit shy to admit. “Well… It’s not very refined of me but, I am interested in art, or music...”

”Ooo Natasha here is taking art!” Gaia exclaimed. Natasha went a fierce shade of red.

“Are you?” Elizabeth asked.

”Yes,” Natasha said, looking away with a demure smile.

”She’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like her work.”

”Truly, a treasure.” All of the girls praised her and Natasha only went redder.

”I’m excited to see, if you don’t mind.” Elizabeth offered.

”O-of course you can!” Natasha squeaked out.

"So, Aliena," Saoirse leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "if you're interested in music, why don't you join the Frog Choir? Professor Flitwick is always looking for new voices."

"Oh, I don't know if I'm quite good enough for that," Elizabeth replied, blushing slightly.

Gaia waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense! You should at least give it a try. Who knows, you might surprise yourself."

"And if singing isn't your thing," Berniece added, "there's always the Art Club. They meet every Wednesday evening in the third-floor corridor."

Natasha nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, you should come! We're always happy to have new members."

"That sounds lovely," Elizabeth said, feeling a warmth spreading through her chest at the girls' encouragement.

Harvey, who had been listening to the conversation, suddenly perked up. "Hey, if you're looking for extracurriculars, why not try out for Quidditch? We could use some fresh talent on the team."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Harvey, not everyone's obsessed with Quidditch like you are."

"I'm not obsessed," Harvey protested. "I'm dedicated!"

The group burst into laughter, and Elizabeth found herself joining in. The easy camaraderie of her new housemates was infectious.

"So, Aliena," Terra said once the laughter had died down, "What do you like to do for fun? Besides art and music, I mean."

Elizabeth paused for a moment, considering. "Well, I do enjoy reading. And I've always been fascinated by magical creatures."

"Oh, you should definitely take Care of Magical Creatures then!" Saoirse exclaimed. "Professor Kettleburn is brilliant, even if he is a bit... accident-prone."

"Accident-prone is putting it mildly," Gaia snorted. "Didn't he lose half his limbs to various creatures?"

"All the more reason to take his class," Harvey grinned. "Never a dull moment!"

“Er, I’m not sure I’d have room in my schedule,” She admitted. It was true— her schedule was already packed to the brim with difficult subjects. Not to mention, when Elizabeth had asked Aunt Belphia about it she’d strictly declined the idea.

As the conversation flowed, Elizabeth found herself relaxing more and more. The Gryffindors' openness and warmth were a stark contrast to the guarded interactions she was used to in Slytherin circles. It was refreshing, and for the first time since arriving in this world, she felt like she might truly belong.

The feast continued, filled with laughter, stories, and the beginnings of what Elizabeth hoped would be lasting friendships. Here, among the lions, she might just find the courage to be herself.

And the courage to escape the life she left behind. Or the courage to return to it.

An impenetrable crowd of students left the Great Hall. Her new roommates and friends were giving detailed run-downs on the castle and all it’s complicated intricacies. Elizabeth couldn’t keep up, it was all so overwhelming.

”And the staircase leading up to the Ancient Runes classroom has a fake step. There are a lot of those you have to watch out for-,” Gaia was saying just as they exited the hall when Elizabeth was abruptly torn back from the group by her arm.

Abraxas glowered down at her. Right behind him, the Knights of Walpurgis followed along with the Slytherin girls on the outskirts.

“What are you playing at? Trying to humiliate me?” He spat. Elizabeth ripped her arm away, face hardening.

”The Sorting Hat chose what house I’m in.” Elizabeth responded firmly.

”Now now, Abraxas. This is hardly polite.” Tom’s cold voice cut through. Elizabeth’s eyes slid over to where he came to Abraxas’s side. Tom looked down at Elizabeth with that slinky smile. Elizabeth stiffened. “It’s hardly as if she had a choice.” It suggested that if she did, things would be different. Which couldn't be further from the truth.

“Father will be furious with you.” Abraxas said quietly. His viciousness and cruelness were a far cry from how he’d been on the train.

Then it confirmed what Elizabeth knew to be true— her being in Gryffindor would change everything.

”He’ll get over it.” Elizabeth spat back to Abraxas, referring to her uncle.

”There isn’t a problem here, is there?” Edward's voice entered the fray. He stepped forward, in between Abraxas and Elizabeth. She glanced over to where the Gryffindor girls had stopped to watch, a combination of glaring eyes and watchful, tentative gazes. Harvey stepped to Edward’s side, and their Gryffindor friends met with them closely behind. A barrier of sorts. A shield.

They all stood in a very clear picture: Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

”No.” Elizabeth said, before Tom could intervene. “Let’s go,” and she grabbed Edward’s arm to tug him away before they did anything stupid on her first night in Hogwarts.

Tom’s eyes slunk to Elizabeth’s hand and then back to her face with a vicious coldness that she hadn’t seen since the night they met. A chill ran down her spine but she held her composure and turned away. Edward fell into step next to her and she let go of his arm.

“I’m sorry about that,” She said after they’d all gotten out of earshot.

”Don’t be! Did you see his eyes? They were absolutely dreamy.” Saoirse said, linking her arm with Elizabeth’s in girlish happiness.

”Abraxas?” Elizabeth scoffed.

”You have no sense of house loyalty.” Edward retorted, still bristling from the ridged interaction.

”No, Tom!” Saoirse said dreamily, “Well, Malfoy too. They’re all handsome, though.”

Gaia joined in at her other side, effectively cutting Edward off. “How angry were they, hm? So disappointed that you aren’t a Slytherin!” They giggled. This was suggested as if it were romantic, and Elizabeth balked.

”They’re just pissed because I’m not the pureblooded Slytherin princess they want me to be!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Don’t even try,” Berniece said to Elizabeth. “They’re delusional to a fault.”

The walk to the Gryffindor common room was long and confusing. They had to wait for the throngs of students to take turns going on the shifting staircases. Elizabeth wasn’t scared of heights, but looking down at the expanse of the staircases and the distance downward made her stomach queasy.

The portraits all appraised the students, some of them stopping to chat. Ghosts filtered through the walls and greeted the students. Elizabeth had even encountered Nearly-Headless Nick, who they all chatted to briefly before they continued the trek down another long corridor. Once they finally reached the end, they had joined the crowd of fresh first years who were being lead by another prefect.

“Codswaddle.” The prefect said to the fat lady, revealing the password. They all piled into the porthole after watching the first years stumble over the entrance. ”Welcome, to the Gryffindor common room.” Edward announced to Elizabeth, rather than anybody else.

It was incredible, as all things in Hogwarts were.

The Gryffindor common room felt like stepping into an entirely different world, a far cry from the cold, regal elegance she had known within Malfoy Manor. The space was vibrant and alive, buzzing with an energy that crackled in the air.

A massive fireplace dominated one wall, its flames casting a golden glow that danced across the room. The firelight flickered over the deep crimson tapestries, embroidered with proud lions and shimmering gold thread. The room smelled faintly of wood smoke and worn leather, with a hint of something sweet—possibly from the freshly baked goods someone had sneaked in from the feast.

Plush armchairs and well-worn sofas were scattered around the hearth, arranged in cozy, inviting clusters. Students lounged casually, laughing and chatting, their red-and-gold scarves draped over the backs of chairs or tangled in laps. The noise was unfamiliar—so much louder and more chaotic than anything Elizabeth had experienced in her previous life.

The portraits on the walls moved with an easy, almost playful grace, occasionally leaning over their frames to observe the new arrivals. Even the beamed ceiling felt closer here-- lower and more intimate than the grand halls and corridors the rest of the castle adopted. It was a space filled with warmth—not just from the fire, but from the camaraderie that pulsed through the room like a heartbeat.

A glimmering device blinking a rainbow of color flew above their heads and whirled back around to the direction it came. A loud pop sounded in the corner, and Edward made a noise and briskly walked in that direction to surely scold whoever had done it. Professor Dumbledore entered from a side door and greeted the crowd of first years. His eyes met her’s and she waved. He nodded at her in greeting.

”Come on, you don’t have to sit here and listen to that stuff.” Gaia explained.

”Yeah, we’ll teach you everything,” Berniece said. They showed her around the common room where chess sets laid around carelessly, standing globes spun, and endless tables and lounge chairs were placed. Many of them were already occupied by students, gathered in groups, where they caught up on their summers and greeted one another joyously. Many of the sixth year girls greeted people as they walked and Elizabeth’s head was spinning by the time they walked up the curling steps toward the girls’ dormitories.

After passing by five doors, they finally reached the sixth, which had a gold plaque on it that was engraved with the word 'Sextus'. “Finally, sex!” Gaia exclaimed excitedly.

“It’s sixth, in latin,” Natasha reasoned.

”Sex is sex. It’s a win in my book.” Gaia claimed as they entered. Ms. Mollin would have a heart attack at the vulgarity.

“Wow, a new bed! Looks like they were ready for you, Aliena. How fun!” Saoirse called.

The dormitory was cozy and homey, with six four-poster beds arranged in a circle. Each one was draped with thick, crimson curtains embroidered with gold lions. Elizabeth’s eyes were immediately drawn to the large windows opposite the door, offering a sweeping view of the Hogwarts grounds bathed in moonlight. The soft hoot of an owl could be heard in the distance, adding a strange sort of comfort to the scene.

All of the bed’s had their own desks and wardrobes, with six trunks displayed at the ends. Elizabeth’s gleaming black trunk was in the far corner at the base of one of the beds, its heavy curtains drawn open, revealing thick quilts in Gryffindor colors and an intricately carved wooden headboard. A small nightstand sat beside it, already adorned with a lantern and her wand case.

Elizabeth gravitated around the warmth of the center furnace, and then to where she found her clothes already hanging and folded in her wardrobe and her supplies put away in desk neatly. She looked out the small window above her side table to where the grounds loomed in dark beauty.

The girls were rooting through their trunks avidly, chattering among themselves. They pulled out decorations— pennants and posters. Saoirse took out a giant tailor's mannequin and set it on the ground. She must have had an extending charm on her trunk, and was probably deeply interested in fashion to have such a thing.

The rest of the night was spent watching the girls decorate the room with strips of lights and fabric. They squealed and yelled at one another to help hang things. They chatted about the latest magazines and popular celebrities. Conversations about the summer that Elizabeth wasn't included in. They showed Elizabeth who the handsome men on their posters were— mostly members of wizard bands or celebrities.

By the end of the night their stomachs were full with chocolate candies brought from home, they smelled of perfumes from each other's ornate bottles, and they were high off laughter that turned their faces numb.

They all laid in their beds, readying for sleep.
With one word from anybody in the silence, the girl's laughter would carry and play off each other's. It seemed an eternity before they all finally settled into sleep. Saoirse and Gaia were cuddled up against one another in one bed, content to whisper in the dark silence about boys and the summer they had missed without each other's presence. They were clearly the best of friends. Berniece howled at them to shut up in their giggling.

The night drifted finally. It had to be three or four in the morning, and Elizabeth suspected she was the last one laying awake as she laid in her bed, staring at the canopy above her. Gaia and Saoirse were snoring loudly, arms wrapped around each other. Berniece laid on her stomach with her limbs splayed about. Terra looked like a dead person on her back, clutching her comforter to her chin tightly in a deep sleep. Natasha's pillow was already on the floor mumbling to herself, and she hadn't even been asleep for an hour.

Elizabeth closed her eyes within her bed, and prayed to whomever was listening that she would never wake up from this wonderful dream.

-

Chapter Text

The first morning Elizabeth spent in Hogwarts was early. Earlier than even the morning’s she had spent at Malfoy Manor. She wasn’t sure if she was restless or simply excited, but she woke up a good few hours before dawn.

Elizabeth looked around the room, at the magazines and stray socks and scarves on the floor. A little device that belonged to Natasha was whirring near her bed— a wizarding sort of revolving night light that displayed a scene of a green and purple aurora borealis. Artemis, who had settled in very well, was curled up at the end of Elizabeth’s bed. The girls had fussed over her all last night, fighting over who got to pet or hold her. Artemis preened at the attention.

Elizabeth pet her and kissed her head gently. Artemis twitched in her sleep.

Elizabeth shuffled to the bathroom. Even the bathrooms were cozy, and they each had their own sink with all their toiletries well organized. There were three stalls and three showers and no bath. Elizabeth smiled at the six hooks that were on the wall, each with different colored towels and bathrobes hanging from them.

Elizabeth brushed her teeth and splashed her face with cold water before getting dressed in her uniform— the same one from last night. She took the smooth expensive leather satchel filled with her supplies over her arm. The girls had informed her that normally they would have whatever was left of the weekend to attend classes, but since today was a Thursday they would start the term.

She wrestled with her hair. None of them had showered the night before— too caught up in their chatter and conversation. She shoved her hat in the bag and pulled her long hair up into a ponytail with a stray ribbon she’d found on the floor.

The walk was confusing. On her desk when she’d arrived, Elizabeth had found her schedule and a map of the school. She tried to follow it, but she was never really good at using real maps— she had grown too used to GPS growing up. Not to mention that this map was the most confusing thing she’d ever seen.

She walked the halls. They were quiet and calm and warm. The portraits still slept in their frames. No ghosts were roaming about, and she continued until she stumbled upon the Great Hall’s ginormous doors. She looked up at them and pressed her hand to them. Still closed. She turned and walked down the corridor until she was standing underneath the great clock’s ticking pendulum. The doors to the outside were also shut, but when she pressed her hand to them they opened without even so much as a press.

The quiet morning air hit her with a slap. It was freezing.

Elizabeth was used to the warmth and humidity of her home’s outside air. Even Malfoy Manor wasn’t this cold during the mornings. Elizabeth gritted her teeth and wished she’d brought her gloves or her thicker coat. Wasn’t September supposed to be one of the warmest months? She would die here if this was supposed to be warm. She’d never liked the cold.

Still, she wrapped her cloak around herself and walked.

At least walking helped her warm up, and it wasn’t windy at all. It was strangely still and silent. It was one of those mornings that she knew would be etched into her mind forever. Somehow nostalgic, though she’d never been there before in her life. Strange and precious.

She walked for a long time. The trails were more treacherous than she’d imagined, and she slipped multiple times. She stuck close to the castle and finally came upon the quidditch pitch. It loomed high and huge and distant in the morning light. The sun had started to rise now, and she could see the morning fog drifting away, away, away. Like a movie it rolled back into into the dark forest. The morning dew and grass had totally wet and dirtied her stockings and shoes and hem. She didn’t mind. She stood and watched for a long time. It could have been five minutes or an hour. Time was irrelevant here.

Finally, she turned and made her way back to the castle.

As she was walking she came across crowds of students who were making their way into the Great Hall. The doors were wide open now and a low murmur of an easy crowd of voices sounded from within the hall and the corridors. The castle was slowly awakening, and with it the wonder of magic.

She heard him before she saw him.

A cackle that reminded her of The Joker from Batman. Young and high screams of terror sounded from students. She took in the scene.

A small translucent figure of multicolored clothing and a hat covered in bells was zooming about so quickly his form was blurred. First years ran away as pieces of paper swarmed around to chase them. ”Duck duck duck! Get away yee firsties!” One boy in particular got caught trying to slip through the group. “Ah ah ah! O’ Peevsie will help… by making it WORSE!” he exclaimed. He dumped a bucket of water on the boy's head, who let out a gasp and stood frozen with his arms up by his side.

Elizabeth scowled. Just great. The only route of escape was back the way she came, but cowering outside wouldn’t do any good. She was sure he’d be there all morning, waiting for students to appear just to terrorize them.

And without luck on her side, Peeves spotted her. He let out a laugh of glee and abandoned the first years, who scurried into the Great Hall. He spun around her in a blur of bright color. Elizabeth pushed forward, trying to ignore him as she walked. ”Oh? I’ve heard about you little transfer!” he cackled, sounding gleeful. Elizabeth glared up at him as she walked. ”What a nasty look! Nasty nasty!” He tried to throw a bucket of water at her. Elizabeth luckily had taken out her wand the moment she saw him. She waved it, muttering “Impervio.”

The water flared around her figure and splashed to the side in a halo.

“Greengrass, class act! Class act, class ACT!” He cackled and whirled around her. “Little lion needs some fun? Little lion-,” he was in the middle of saying, but as he got closer to her he recoiled. ”You smell funny,” he said under his breath. He hung in the air, still for the first time, as if she’d struck him. She tried to ignore him, but he took out a horn and was blowing it boisterously. Other students turned their heads at the noise but hurried past, not wanting to incur Peeves’ attention.

Peeves grew closer, and he recoiled again as if stuck this time. ”Somethings wrong with you- you- you aren’t right,” he said, his voice low. The temperature dropped suddenly. A chill ran down her spin as if she’d just walked outside.

“Peeves…” came a low, menacing voice from the shadows, sending an immediate shiver through the air. It was a voice that could make even the most fearless student turn pale. “Enough.”

The Bloody Baron drifted through the stone wall, his silver, ghostly form radiating an aura of cold dread. His chain-covered robes clinked softly as he moved, his hollow eyes fixing Peeves with a gaze that silenced the poltergeist instantly. Peeves froze again mid-air, his mischievous grin now replaced with something much closer to fear.

“Oh… Baron!” Peeves said, his voice suddenly high-pitched, trying to mask his nervousness. “Just having a bit of fun with the new lioness! No harm done, no harm done!” He flipped upside down, trying to maintain his carefree air, but it was clear that the arrival of the Bloody Baron had shifted the tone completely.

The Baron glided closer, his cold gaze never leaving Peeves. “I warned you about your antics, Peeves. I told you to stay away from the students today,” the Baron said, his voice as cold as ice. “And yet, here we are.”

Peeves twitched, the playfulness now gone from his face. “Oh, I was only—”

“Leave,” the Baron interrupted, his voice low but commanding, the single word hanging heavily in the air.

Without another word, Peeves let out a nervous laugh, gave Elizabeth a wide-eyed look, and shot off down the corridor, vanishing around a corner with a final, faint cackle. The Bloody Baron watched him go, his ghostly form remaining eerily still.

When Peeves was gone, the Baron turned his attention to Elizabeth. His ghostly eyes were colder than the dungeon air, but there was no hostility in his gaze—just an unsettling empty calm.

For some reason, Elizabeth did not fear him. She took him in— draped in tattered clothes splattered with liquid that could only be blood and deep holly eyes shaded by centuries of regret.

She could not bring herself to fear him. Not when she knew of his past. Of what he did. His unrequited love for Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter. How when he went to retrieve her and she refused to go back with him, he killed Helena Ravenclaw, the Grey Lady, and took his own life out of despair. Elizabeth briefly wondered, if he ever saw The Grey Lady here. If their ghostly figures came to pass one other. If they both haunted on another still, to this day.

It was horribly romantic and tragic and horrific at the same time.

She couldn’t bring herself to fear him. Only pity.

”You do not fear me, girl,” he identified immediately. She realized this must have been quite a surprise to him.

“Should I?”

”Yessss,” He hissed, approaching her as if to try and intimidate her. She met his eyes. He could have been handsome, once. When he got too close he paused, shock on his face in the same way Peeves had reacted. ”You are wrong," he whispered, "Y-You don’t belong here.”

Oh. So that was it.

Somehow the ghosts knew more than mortals did. ”You are dead,” he said as if this offended him deeply. Well, she was in a dead person’s body, so somewhat true.

”I’m not dead.” Elizabeth responded.

The Bloody Baron appraised her. She looked him in he eyes, steady and level and knowing.

”You shouldn’t be in there.” He whispered. She knew he was referring to the dead body she occupied, from the way he said it and stared at her.

”I know…,” She said. He was very still. “But I didn’t choose this.”

He recoiled. “The headmaster will hear of this abomination.” He spat in a deeply aristocratic and classical tone. He turned to surely drift off in a flurry, but Elizabeth stepped forward. She was desperate to stop him— he couldn’t tell Dippet. If he told Dippet, she’d surly be expelled. Worse, she’d be taken to the Ministry. Who knows what they would do? Remove her from this body? Ruin everything?
Take her away from Hogwarts? After she'd just gotten there?

She immediately understood Hermione’s words in that moment. They rung true and clear in her mind. The worst thing wasn't death, it would to be expelled. To be taken from this beautiful world. To be taken from Hogwarts.

“I know what you are, Baron,” she blurted.

He stopped immediately, turned quickly and brushed forward right in her face. He clearly was a stranger to fearlessness. Of true fearlessness. They faced each other with only an inch between them, fury evident on his face. He was trying to scare her. It wouldn’t work.

”The Grey Lady is a beautiful ghost... Is she still here? Do you still regret what you did?” The words she whispered made him turn paler, if that was possible.

”You know not what you speak,” he tried shakily.

Elizabeth continued. “Do you still love her?”

He recoiled, looking at her with new eyes as if seeing her for the first time.

”Do you regret what you did?” She whispered, and she knew he heard it.

He turned away with a hand over his mouth. ”I love her.” He said it quietly. He said it like a prayer. Love. Present tense.

And maybe, Elizabeth thought, he did love her. Maybe he loved her even as he stabbed her. Maybe he loved her as her blood sprayed across those tattered robes. Maybe in his madness, he still had that capacity to love the person whose life he'd taken with his own hands.

Elizabeth thought for a moment. She tried to picture what she herself would want to hear, if she were in his position. If she had that sort of madness. Maybe she did, deep down. ”I never said you didn’t.”

He turned to her. Could ghosts cry? If they could, he’d be crying now. He floated closer, desperate to listen.

But he recoiled again and floated in front of her, staring at her for a long moment.

”I... won’t tell anyone.” Was all he bit out, and then flung himself into the floor with a flourish and was gone.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. It was warm again. There were students at the end of the corridor staring at her in horror, but they hadn't heard their conversation. But they had just seen her send away the Bloody Baron. It was an impossible feat. She steeled herself and held her chin high and walked forward, forward, forward into the Great Hall.

The Gryffindor table was half-full. She didn’t dare glance at the Slytherins on the opposite side of the hall. Instead, she sought out familiar faces and sat with a great breath.

“There you are! I was worried of where you’d gone,” Natasha said. She looked bright and happy.

Elizabeth found none of the other girls were there, but all the Gryffindor boys were. Most of them were bleary eyed.

”I went for a walk this morning,” She explained, buttering some toast.

”Are you an early riser too?” Natasha asked. Elizabeth nodded.

”We’re the only ones, then. They all wait till the last possible moment to wake up. I’ll bet it’s absolute chaos in there right now.”

Elizabeth giggled. She could imagine that. She had never been an early riser until she’d came to this world. It was one of those strange changes about herself that she couldn’t explain. There were parts of her that had changed inexplicably. Perhaps she'd adopted some things from Aliena. Or perhaps she had just changed all on her own. It did not matter-- the result was the same.

Being alone with Natasha was a welcome surprise. In group settings, Natasha was very quiet and soft spoken. But at breakfast she opened like a flower, speaking easily and confidently as any of the other girls. Elizabeth felt a fool for thinking this outgoing girl was shy— she was simply different. Different was good.

Natasha went through Elizabeth’s entire timetable with her, explaining each class and each professor. What was good to do with each and what was bad. Whom to take notes with during lectures and whom to simply stick to the reading with. She told Elizabeth of their temperaments and preferences and what type of students each one of them preferred. She liked very much to talk, and Elizabeth was eager to listen.

Edward and Harvey would give their inquiries here and there, Harvey less so because he seemed much more tired and hungry than Edward was.

”…Now, Slughorn likes all sorts of students. He may seem a bit prejudice on blood status- though you have nothing to worry about in that department- but actually he’s quite kind. At the end of the day he more cares for the charming, talented sort. Like Tom Riddle, who you know. He has quite the collection of popular—,” Natasha was saying, when their conversation was interrupted by the girl’s entrance. Elizabeth looked at them in surprise.

They had all been very busy. Their hair was done up in beautiful curls and updos. They had extensive jewelry and accessories and makeup that spoke to each of their individual personalities well. It was a far cry from Slytherin fashions. None of it was subdued or tasteful. Elizabeth didn’t want to think it, but she remembered well the lectures on fashion that Aunt Belphia had given her during the summer. These girls seemingly broke each rule without a care in the world.

Elizabeth and Natasha were the only ones not wearing accessories or makeup at all. Self consciously, Elizabeth subtly took the plain ribbon out of her hair and let her long curls loose behind her back.

“You know, I can’t wait to teach you spells from Mrs. Brethegin’s Beauty Pamphlet. You’re such an incredible blank canvas,” Saoirse said mid-way through the breakfast. She was referring to a beauty magazine subscription that gave spells and methods of maintaining oneself. Elizabeth had been so focused on educational magic and etiquette that she hadn’t had time to think about such things.

“Right! That’s what we were talking about on the way here. You’re probably the prettiest girl in Hogwarts, and you don’t even try at all!” Gaia exclaimed. Elizabeth had never heard such a thing. But then, she reminded herself, she was in this new body. Aliena was incredibly beautiful. Like a model or actress. And they were right— it was hard to find a face that amounted to Aliena’s natural prowess. Elizabeth felt vain thinking such things, but at the end of the day it was just cold hard facts, and this wasn’t her real body. E

lizabeth tried to remember her old face and body. With a crushing realization, she found she couldn’t quite remember how it felt to be herself anymore. She remembered some things. Her nose, her mouth, but it was so distant. The face she had grown up with, the face she'd gazed at in the mirror all her life-- it was growing faded and distant. It struck her like a blow to the gut.

“Oh, don’t make that face! Don’t tell me you don’t think you’re pretty?!” Berniece said, as if the thought were a crime.

Elizabeth coughed. “Oh no, no! I-It’s very kind of you all to say, but I’ve…” She hesitated and could see all of them watching with great interest for her answer. ”I don’t think anyone’s ever called me pretty before.”

It sounded foolish when it came out. Of course Aliena was pretty. Of course, people had called Aliena pretty. But Elizabeth? Elizabeth had never been pretty. In her old life she’d had acne and was chubby, with boring brown eyes and equally boring dull hair. She had never been pretty. It was always, 'You've got a great personality' and 'You're actually kind of funny'. And she didn’t quite know what to do with herself anymore.

”What?!”

”That’s outrageous!”

”Who’ve you even been around?”

”Of course you’re beautiful!”

”I’ve never seen someone so stunning!” They all spoke at once, showering Elizabeth in compliments. It was overwhelming, and Elizabeth pursed her lips, leaning back as she tried to take it all in. As she tried to suppress the pain of it. As she tried even harder to suppress how happy these compliments made her feel. 

Once the girls calmed, Edward’s voice cut through the fray. “Has nobody really ever called you pretty?” He sounded baffled.

”No, well, I guess I just wasn’t—,” Elizabeth tried. She struggled to come up with an excuse.

”You’re beautiful.” Edward said passionately.

Immediately after, he went a great shade of red and turned back to his food. The girls went quiet and leaned in with giggles and knowing smiles, and the boys cooed and laughed in harmony.

“Don’t worry, we’ll do you up right.” Tessa claimed.

”R-Right,” Gaia said, glancing at Edward again, before looking to Elizabeth with a sour look well-concealed by one of joy and happiness.

”Oh! It’s time for class! What’s your first per-,” Saoirse said, but was overrun by chatter. Elizabeth noticed the way that each girl seemed to talk over each other's sentences in a way like no other, and yet everyone understood each other perfectly and continued off each other from nothing. It was a way of speaking that only girls seemed to know. Fast, and frenzied, and passionate, with no room for pauses at all.

Elizabeth felt a tear come to her eye just listening to them. It reminded her of Little Women. It reminded her of her mother. It reminded her of a home. She blinked it away quickly in exchange for a giddy smile.

Natasha had explained Elizabeth’s class schedule, already narrating who would go to classes with her and who would meet where to pick up where the other's had left off. They wouldn't leave her without an escort for a moment.

And as they all walked to classes in a bundle of warmth and color and gossip and song, Elizabeth hadn’t even thought to glance at the Slytherin table, where she had left a possible life behind.

The first class Elizabeth ever had in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was overwhelming, to say the least.

Elizabeth found that each class was shared with strange combination of students from different houses. When Elizabeth asked Natasha, whom she shared the first class along with some of the Gryffindors, she’d said, “Oh, yes, we often are paired with everyone from our house, but it depends on the subject. Most classes that aren’t the core curriculum could be with anyone. Charms is mostly with Ravenclaws, though.”

And so it was.

And it was so chaotic and confusing. As soon as they arrived it was all layered large wooden desks and tables and a skinny middle aged man with glasses who stood at the front of a blackboard with his wand aloft.

He waited until the class silenced on their own, which was rather quickly given the rowdieness of the chatter.

“Good morning!” He exclaimed. All the students echoed back good mornings. He told them how glad he was to have them all back for another semester and immediately went into quizzing students at random about their summer reading. If Elizabeth hadn’t passed a note to Berniece to ask what is name was she wouldn’t have known. ‘Professor Seldrey Mardince’ it read back.

”Ah and,” he’d started as he approached the Gryffindor girls’ group. “Oh! Our new student!” he exclaimed, happily. Elizabeth blushed at everyone’s attention.

“Welcome to Charms! I apologize, I completely forgot we’d have a new student. Why don’t you stand and introduce yourself? And a fun fact?”

Great.

Elizabeth stood, encouraged by whispers and jeers of encouragements from the Gryffindors around her. It was hard to be afraid with them around. ”My name is Aliena Greengrass. It’s very nice to meet you all,” she said, looking across the room at all the Ravenclaws who waved or hollered. It seemed rowdiness wasn’t reserved for Gryffindors. Professor Mardince quieted them swiftly with a knowing look and Elizabeth continued. ”And a fun fact about me is…” she hesitated. She hadn’t thought about a fun fact. She could say things about her past, but didn’t want to be morbid in front of this joyful audience. ”I like to sing.”

“Oh! How wonderful! Sing something for us!” Professor Mardince said.

Fuck. She shouldn't have said that. This was very bad. It made her stomach plummet, but the Gryffindors cheered and Berniece and Natasha rubbed her arms in encouragement. ”Well, okay,” Elizabeth admitted in embarrassment. She thought of what to sing. Something that wouldn’t sound so bad without any music.

She took a shaky breath and began.

It was a short and sweet song, one of romance and dreams and childish wonder. It reminded her of her own childhood and home.

The class started to gently clap for her in awe. A Gryffindor whistled obnoxiously. Even professor Mardince started clapping rapidly, looking happily surprised.

“How wonderful!” he exclaimed and the class quieted a bit. “What a lovely voice you have. I daresay we have a choir if you are interested.”

”I’ve been told,” Elizabeth laughed briefly.

”Wonderful! Now, let’s see if you have any talent for charms,” he started. Great. No reprise, she was thrown straight into the fire once more.

“Can you explain the difference between a Summoning Charm and a Conjuring Spell, and in what circumstances you might prefer to use one over the other?"

Elizabeth thought it was a cruel question to ask a new coming student, but the answer came so quickly in her mind that she didn’t even care.

“The Summoning Charm is used to summon existing objects to the caster from a distance. It works by drawing a known object toward the wizard, no matter where it is located, as long as it's within range. A Conjuring Spell, on the other hand, creates objects out of thin air. These objects don’t exist beforehand and are brought into being through magic.”

Elizabeth said it so quickly and excitedly, summoning her own recollection of her long summer at the Malfoy’s in which she’d endlessly read books on magic and desperately retained the information as if she could be taken away from this world at any moment.

Professor Mardince let out a hollar and a hop-skip, like this was a brilliant thought and went to the board to begin writing with the chalk as he rambled. ”Incredible! I would expect nothing less from a Greengrass, now would I? Not only talented, but well versed in the summer reading. Now-…” and he began to lecture haphazardly as he scribbled on the board.

Elizabeth quickly began taking notes, and Saoirse leaned forward as she rubbed Elizabeth’s back. “You’ll give us a run for our money yet,” Saoirse whispered excitedly.

Elizabeth glanced around to where her roommates grinned at her and turned to their own notes. Elizabeth’s own shy smile bloomed on her face as she continued writing.

The next classes proceeded with consecutive succession. Elizabeth was passed off one after the other to whichever roommate she had classes with next. She’d gotten glimpses of the outdoor courtyards.

Finally, it was Potions and then she had a free period before lunch. She felt as if she wanted to collapse. Herbology, with Hufflepuffs, was hot and dirty. She’d cleaned herself with the charm Abraxas had taught her but still felt as if the humidity had sunk into her skin. Despite being comfortable in the room (it reminded her distinctly of home), when she entered the potions classroom she felt frizzy and exhausted.

“Oh look who it is,” a voice drawled. Elizabeth looked up from the bench table she was draped over to find Rodrick Lestrange standing with Wulfric Mulciber.

She hardened immediately, sitting up straight in her stool.

”Hello, Mulciber, Lestrange,” she said respectfully nodding her head. It felt strange to do after the past day and a half being so informal with her housemates.

”Miss Greengrass. You look positively…” Mulciber drawled as he looked over her form, “frizzy.”

Elizabeth stiffened, hand automatically coming to her hair. It was extremely rude and she felt Edward, the only friend she had in potions, stiffen next to her.

”Oh don’t be so uncivil Wulfric. Her cousin would be positively beside himself.” Rodrick said, spitting out the last words as if it were a great joke. Students were still filing into the room. Elizabeth hadn’t even thought of the decorum she was supposed to be upholding until now. Edward opened his mouth, no doubt going to say something scathing from his expression, but Elizabeth beat him to the punch.

“Do you know where Abraxas is? I would like to speak with him.” Actually she wouldn’t, but it was a good excuse.

”Right here.” A voice sounded behind them. Elizabeth and Edward turned to the other side of their desk where Abraxas, Marius Avery, and Tom Riddle stood watching them carefully.

”Ah, Abraxas-,” Elizabeth started. Surprisingly, Edward was the one who interrupted her.

”Tom! Good to see you,” He said, holding out his hand to the boy. They shook hands.

”Did you have a good summer, Edward?” Tom asked, ever the gentleman.

It disgusted Elizabeth, but she got caught in Abraxas’ gaze. He was looking at her deeply, eyes roving over her as if he was wondering what on earth had happened to her in their time apart.

”Wonderful. You?” Edward asked cordially. Tom nodded, his eyes slinking over to Elizabeth and then to Wulfric and Rodrick behind her.

”Riveting. Tell me, are you taking good care of our Aliena?” Tom said.

Our Aliena. It grated in Elizabeth’s mind. Not only did he stake his claim, he called her by her first name. To Edward, it may have meant nothing. But to Elizabeth, she knew what it meant. The upper-class pureblood nobility didn’t use first names lightly.

”Of course. She’s brilliant,” Edward confided, turning to Abraxas and Marius Avery. “Beautiful singing. Your family must adore it.” Fuck. That was the wrong thing to say.

Edward didn’t know it, of course. Nobody had ever heard her sing, even the Malfoys. Abraxas smiled stiffly, looking to Elizabeth with a fiery gaze that only those who were well versed in noble micro-manners were able to understand.

”I sang in Charms. Professor Mardince was curious.” She explained.

Abraxas looked at Edward with a stiff smile. “She is quite brilliant at singing, isn’t she?”

Edward nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but Elizabeth put her hand on Edward’s shoulder and said, “We should prepare for the lesson before it starts, shouldn’t we?”

Edward turned to her, blushing, and nodded. Elizabeth began to unpack her things, distinctly ignoring the weight of their gazes on her and let the boys fall away into their seats. To Elizabeth’s great horror, Tom slid into the row in front of her. The front of the class. Marius and Abraxas briefly had a quiet argument about who would pair with him, but Abraxas had pulled the “my cousin is here” card and took the spot. Elizabeth tried to ignore it. Wulfric and Rodrick opted for a seat to the back of the class, thankfully.

Before Tom or Abraxas could turn around and speak to them, the class thankfully began.

"Welcome, welcome to another year of Potions!" Slughorn exclaimed, his walrus mustache twitching with excitement. "I hope you all had a splendid summer and are ready to delve into the fascinating world of magical brewing once again."

His gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly on Tom Riddle in the front row with an inch of a smile and glimmer in his eyes, before continuing on. Suddenly, his eyes widened as they landed on Elizabeth.

"Ah, and what do we have here? A new face among us!" Slughorn said, his voice filled with curiosity. "Miss Greengrass, isn't it? I've heard whispers of your arrival. Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear!"

Elizabeth felt all eyes turn to her once again. In her other classes, this had been deeply embarrassing. This was another thing entirely, with Abraxas and Tom turning to watch her. She straightened her posture, remembering her etiquette lessons, and gave a polite nod. "Thank you, Professor Slughorn. I'm looking forward to your class."

Slughorn beamed, clearly pleased by her response. "Excellent, excellent! I'm sure you'll fit right in. Now then, let's begin with a review of some of the potions we covered last term. Can anyone tell me the primary ingredients in a Strengthening Solution?"

As hands shot up around the room, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice Tom Riddle's confident posture as he raised his hand, nor the way Slughorn's eyes immediately gravitated towards him. She steeled herself, more tense than she’d been all day.

“The primary ingredients are powdered Griffin claw, crushed Abyssinian shrivelfigs, and salamander blood. The Griffin claw provides magical fortification, enhancing the potion’s effect, while the shrivelfigs act as a stabilizer, allowing the body to absorb the strength gradually. Salamander blood catalyzes the reaction, ensuring the strength boost is sustained for a longer duration.”

“Exemplary as always, Tom. Ten points to Slytherin.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but glance over at Edward, who was watching Tom with a bit of regard. Everyone is enraptured with him, she thought glumly. Disgusting. She didn’t have to see Tom’s face to know it was smug.

”Can anyone describe the process and significance of brewing a Wolfsbane Potion, including its primary ingredients and it's effects on a werewolf?” Slughorn continued, walking around the room. Elizabeth clenched her fists. She tried to recall, but her mind was running blank. She had read this years potion textbooks, but the intricate parts of it were running short.

Another student answered the question.

Slughorn rounded to the front of the classroom where a large table stood with a variety of different potions bubbled in cauldrons. ”Wonderful, wonderful! Now, we have some difficult potions up here. Can anyone tell me, what is inside?” He asked.

Students left their chairs and gathered closer, some close enough to peek in. Elizabeth wanted to stay in her seat, but when Edward raised an expectant brow at her, she followed him and gazed into the cauldrons. ”Yes yes, anyone?” he asked finally as students stood back a generous pace as he stood before them. Tom, of course, raised his hand. Many other students did as well, including Edward. Surprisingly, Edward was called upon.

He gestured to the small cauldron on the right, “That’s Veritaserum. It forces the drinker to voice the truth.”

”Yes, yes! Very good!” And the next? More hands. Another was called.

Draught of Living Death. The next was A Euphoria Elixir— highly addictive.

The next, Elizabeth knew well, and her hand shot up. Along with Tom’s. The only two in the class. ”Go on, both of you!” Slughorn said, cheerfully.

“Amortentia.” They said at the same time.

“The most powerful and dangerous love potion in the magical world. Known for its ability to cause intense infatuation or obsession, it is infamous for its effects on the drinker.” Tom said, before she could speak. Elizabeth quickly opened her mouth, stepping forward before he could continue.

“It’s rumored to smelled differently to each person depending on what attracts them. For example, I smell,” Elizabeth said, stepping closer ever so slightly as the scent carried her forward. “Cashmere cologne, parchment… and saltwater…” She drifted off, forcing her legs to stay put. She wanted to move forward. Wanted more than anything to continue smelling. To huff it into her lungs for the rest of her life.

“But that is only a rumor. You see to me it smells of noth-,” Tom started, and them paused, a deep frown setting into his features as his mouth contorted. “… books, and mist, and…,” he stepped closer to it as if to examine the surface. He took a deep breath through his nose, “vanilla…” he trailed off.

Slughorn covered it swiftly. ”Now, don’t get too close!” He spoke boistry, a knowing smile on his mouth as Tom was caught off guard, and stepped back. “Amortentia does not create actual love. Just powerful obsession. For that reason, it is the most dangerous among the potions of this collection.”

Tom took another step back into the crowd, ask if struck by something foul. Elizabeth looked up at Abraxas, whom she hadn’t realized was standing by her side.

Despite the fact that he was hideously annoying, that white hair and pale skin was a familiar reprieve. It reminded her distinctly of the Manor. Of home, she briefly thought. A home of another type. She remembered playing piano for him in the parlour. Of the first time she’d ever played for them, and their shocked reactions. Of the month that followed, arguing over dinner and his taunting during her lessons. 

As the potions lessons continued and Slughorn was explaining the other cauldrons, Elizabeth leaned up, pressing her shoulder into his. “Can we talk after class? I have a free period.” She knew only Abraxas could hear her, but didn’t think he quiet heard, until he slowly nodded. She looked forward again, watching the lesson with a smile.

”And finally, the most valuable potion of them all,” Slughorn said as he unscrewed a small vial from the frame it was displayed in. Elizabeth watched, recognizing the golden-translucent liquid immediately.

“Felix Felicis. Can anyone tell me what it does?” He asked. Some students raised their hands, but Elizabeth couldn’t help herself when she actually knew an answer. She blurted out, “Liquid Luck.”

”Yes, Miss Greengrass, Liquid Luck. Disastrous potion to make and quite tricky to get correct. Just one sip and one may find that all endeavors succeed. At least, until the effects wear off.” The entire class watched the vial with intent greed, some more than others.

“So, I daresay our first lesson has been quite enlightening. I will not keep you, on your first day at Hogwarts, like some other professors may. However, I will say,” he said, commanding attention as the others looked around excitedly. “Before you go, I have quite the prize in store for those who wish it. If you dare, the student who many brew a proper concoction of The Draught of Living Death by the end of the period may be rewarded with this very vital of Felix Felicis…” The entire room hovered in that weighted silence. ”I will warn you, in all my teachings, not one student has yet managed it. Now, if you dare, you may begin! Instructions are on page ten of your textbooks. You may begin!”

Unsurprisingly, not one student left. Everyone was too greedy for the possibilities that the prize offered. Elizabeth hurried to her desk with Edward, where both of their separate stations lay. She quickly turned to her page, wishing she had the Half-Blood Prince’s rendition. Alas, he was not born yet. ”I’ll get your ingredients, don’t worry,” Edward said, ever the gentleman.

Elizabeth followed the instructions dutifully. She had brewed a few potions back at the Manor, but nothing of this advancement. Abraxas was talking to Slughorn, charming him in some sort of way. He was clearly trying to garner some sort of favor. Elizabeth ignored it and turned back to her potion, which was looking actually quite well in a “smooth, black currant–colored liquid” that it should have been. She approached the next step with her eyes, reading carefully.

She was meant to chop the sopophorous bean. She was meant to, but she knew, somewhere in the back of her mind that it was crushed in the books. Harry crushed it, she thought. So did Snape. If it mess it up, it won’t matter anyhow.

And so she did, and dripped the juices into the potion. Was she supposed to follow the directions? She didn’t know, and she didn’t remember any instructions from her childhood favorite books to say otherwise. She stirred. After the seventh counterclockwise turn she stilled, a strange picture floating in her memory. It felt like reading a book backward, in the same way it felt like watching Aliena’s memories like a movie. She accidentally stirred the other way, and quickly reprimanded herself to go back to counterclockwise. Surely I’ve ruined it, now, she thought.

Just as she was going, her mind strayed again and she could see a glimmer of the pages of a book in her memories. Of words. She accidently went the wrong way again. She cursed and continued back the way she was supposed to. This time, she closed her eyes and tried to recall recall recall. Cream pages of a book with large text and little stars in the margins. The words were blurry, except, “…add a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir…” in very clear english.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and realized she was already doing the counter clockwise stir, and forced herself back. What was she doing?!

“And thats time! Everybody stop!” Slughorn announced. Elizabeth sucked in a breath. She glanced around at the potions around her. Edwards was a deep frothy pink. Abraxas’ spat black liquid. Tom’s, she craned her neck to see, was almost a clear translucent, save for a shimmering golden texture.

Slughorn went around one by one. ”Ah, Tom so close my boy so close, but surely much better than anyone I’ve seen in-,” he said, patting Tom on the shoulder. Tom was already preening, looking over at Abraxas’ spitting concoction which was starting to bubble angrily. ”Oh!” Slughorn exclaimed, letting go of Tom’s shoulder. They immediately turned back to follow his gaze.

“My, my…” Slughorn said wistfully as he took in Elizabeth’s potion, watching it with wonder. It was perfectly clear— the complete likeness to water. Slughorn fumbled in his robes and pulled out a little green mint leaf. He dropped it in. It shriveled and died and turned to nothing at all immediately. ”By Merlin! I’ve never seen anything like this! A clear, clear winner! Miss Greengrass, how positively delightful,” he began to sing her praise and brought her to the front of the class where he handed her the vial quite ceremoniously. Tom’s fists clenched hard, drawing blood from his palms. How could this foolish insolent girl win? It was inconceivable. Elizabeth took it smiling, holding it in both her hands and then safely storing it into her cloak’s breast pocket carefully.

She looked out on the class, but all she could see was Tom’s sinister gaze. She looked away immediately and rushed back to her seat. Edward helped her clean up, singing her praises and telling her how lucky it was she was a Gryffindor. Elizabeth winced when he’d said it too loud and the group of Slytherin boys had heard. They were all gathered together whispering, looking over shoulders to catch a glimpse at her here and there.

After everything was cleaned up, Slughorn pulled her aside as all the students were filling out.

“Tell me Miss Greengrass, do you have an affinity for potions?” He asked with a glimmer in his eye.

“Ah, I daresay I don’t-,” Elizabeth tried.

”Oh don’t be modest, of course you do! I’ve never seen anything like that in all my years of teaching.”

”I think you should see me try to brew something else,” she said, entirely truthful. “It was a stroke of beginner's luck.”

”Well, if it is luck then it has only brought you more,” he said with a wink. She shifted shyly.

“If you continue on this path then I would have no choice but to take you under my wing!” He said loudly, and turned back to his group of potions on the counter. Elizabeth glanced toward the brew of Amortentia and looked back to him.

”If I do, then I would not object. Have a good day, Professor Slughorn.”

Elizabeth slipped out and almost forgot she’d asked Abraxas to speak to her after class. He was leaning against the wall as his friends spoke around him. They caught sight of her and clapped him on the shoulder or wished him goodbye before they turned and walked away. It was just Abraxas and Elizabeth now.

“Aliena Greengrass— Gryffindor, Singer, and Potions Master. Tell me, what new titles will you adopt by the end of the day is through?”

Elizabeth sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Look, I know you're upset about my sorting, but-"

"Upset?" Abraxas interrupted, his voice sharp. "Do you have any idea what this means for our family?"

"Our family?" Elizabeth repeated, her tone incredulous. "I'm not a Malfoy, Abraxas. I never was."

Abraxas's jaw clenched. "You're living under our roof. You bear our name, even if it's not by blood. And now you've gone and sorted yourself into Gryffindor of all places."

"I didn't sort myself anywhere," Elizabeth retorted. "The hat chose. And frankly, I'm glad it did."

Abraxas's eyes widened slightly at her admission. "You're glad? Have you lost your mind?"

"No," Elizabeth said firmly. "I've found it. For the first time since I arrived here, I feel like I belong somewhere."

A tense silence fell between them. Abraxas ran a hand over his face, looking suddenly tired. "What am I supposed to tell father?"

"The truth," Elizabeth said simply. "That I was sorted into Gryffindor, and that it doesn't change who I am or my gratitude for what your family has done for me."

Abraxas scoffed. "You think that will be enough?"

"It has to be," Elizabeth replied. "Because I'm not changing who I am to fit into your family's expectations anymore."

Abraxas stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "You have changed, Aliena. And not for the better."

Elizabeth nodded, a small, neutral smile on her face. "Maybe I have. Or maybe this is who I've always been, and you're just seeing it for the first time."

With that, Elizabeth turned and walked away, leaving Abraxas alone in the corridor, his thoughts in turmoil.

The rest of the day went by relatively smoothly. Relatively.

She had many classes with the Slytherins. Many. At least she had the Gryffindor girls to cling to. Sometimes the Slytherins had tried to speak to her. It amounted to nothing but her newfound friends whispered longingly amongst themselves over those boys. Elizabeth could understand, to her own disappointment. She understood, and she couldn’t blame them. All of them were horrifically handsome. Even the worst of them, Wulfric, was handsome enough in an ugly-hot sort of way.

Elizabeth wished their outward appearance reflected their souls. The worst of it was that the most beautiful and coveted by all was Tom, who was certainly the worst. Girls of other houses or even some older or younger girls had approached them as if Elizabeth were a bridge that allowed them access to Tom. Elizabeth had gotten her fair share of interrogation by the end of the day. She had also gotten the inside story on the Slytherin boys.

Tom Riddle was the prince of the school. Beautiful and intelligent and charming. Utterly untouchable from the mere mortals who attempted. Even Slytherin girls hadn’t been successful. He was so beautiful and out of reach he’d become something of a legend among the female population of Hogwarts.

His crew was only one step down from this. And the Gryffindor’s ate up every bit of information or interaction Elizabeth had to offer. It didn’t help that Tom and his lackeys would watch her during lessons. At the very least, the cloud of giggles that followed Elizabeth whenever Tom got even remotely near her was enough to keep him away.

At least dinner was enough of a refuge. The boys talked about quidditch. The girls had grown bored of talking about the Slytherins. They fell into steady conversation, noisy and obnoxious. Elizabeth couldn’t have asked for anything better. Before she could finish her dinner, she was full. A strange feeling of sleepy haze came over her. She stood from the table. ”I’m gonna go back.” She said.

”Oh, I’ll come, if you want,” Natasha said, halfway through her dinner. Despite Natasha clearly not being finished, she said it happily.

”No.” Elizabeth quickly said. “No, I just want to try and map out the castle a bit. Don’t worry. I like to… I like to walk.” Elizabeth tried to explain poorly.

“Oh, it’s alright!” Saoirse said. They all nodded and said their confirmations. Elizabeth smiled at them all and left the great hall.

She ran her fingers along the cool stone walls, feeling the magic thrumming beneath her touch. Suits of armor creaked and shifted, standing at attention as if guarding long-forgotten secrets. Elizabeth peered into empty classrooms, imagining the countless students who had learned magic within these walls over the centuries.

She realized she was lost thirty minutes later.

It was so strange being without a phone. She had no way to call anyone to get herself out of the labyrinth of dungeons. She didn’t even know where she was supposed to be on the map, and since every hall looked the same she didn’t have a landmark to show her the way. It was cold and dark and somewhat scary at this hour.

Elizabeth crept forward, trying to squint ahead to see beyond the chasm beyond.

“Are you lost?” A hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back against a hard body.

Elizabeth turned quickly and ripped her hand out of the hold.

The last person she wanted to see stood before her.

Tom Riddle.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?” Elizabeth demanded, holding her hand to her chest.

“Should I not be the one to ask you that? It is past curfew,” Tom remarked.

Past curfew? How had Elizabeth not noticed? Her wandering around the castle and daydreaming had so overtaken her mind that she hadn’t even been paying attention to the chimes of the mighty bell.

Tom seemed to notice the surprise painted on her face.

“Loose track of time, wandering the castle?” He asked, leaning against the stone wall leisurely.

“Yes.” was all Elizabeth could get out.

“Hmm. And what may you be wandering for?” Tom pried. That face… his smile. It was so easy and aloof. Full of life and something else. Of death too. Of something not quite human… not anymore.

She hadn’t been alone with him before, she realized. The heaviness of it weighed on her.

“It’s beautiful.” She said simply. And it was true, and she knew that he would agree. It was simple and it was true. There was no place that could compare Hogwarts.

She hoped he would agree and that would be that. Yet still, he inclined his head in scrutiny. Always in scrutiny.

“Are you are inclined to lose track of time often?” It was a question she didn’t expect, and she found a simple answer .

“Yes.”

”And why is that?” Was this an interview?

”Are you interrogating me?” She followed. Keep it simple, she thought. The less, the better.

“Maybe. But I am a prefect, and you are out during curfew.”

He pointed it out as a fact. Which it was. But she didn’t think he was normally the type to linger.

No, she knew he wasn’t. The Dark Lord Voldemort wouldn’t be the type to linger without an ulterior motive.

“I lost track of time. I’ll go back-,” she was in the middle of saying, before he interrupted her and pushed himself forward from the wall he lounged on.

“Surely you do not know the way back from here.” he said. Offered? What was his purpose? Elizabeth shifted, deeply unsettled. She remembered Dumbledore’s words after her sorting at the beginning of the semester.

Abraxas’ friends are… careful company to keep. Be sure you are wary around them.

Dumbledore was always cryptic and selective with his words. But Elizabeth had understood them and fully agreed.

I’m not the sort to associate with Abraxas’ type, she’d told him.

“I wander frequently.” And when Tom said nothing she continued to fill the oppressive silence. “I can find my way back.”

”It’s hardly been two days- I highly doubt-,” he began. Elizabeth was no fool but maybe she was, because she cut him off.

“I can.” She said firmly, and tried to briskly brush by him.

He caught her arm. ”Don’t be proud. It’s nothing to be embarrassed for. It takes months before first years find their way around Hogwarts.” She tugged her arm from his gentle grasp. Gentle wasn’t exactly the word. Moderate.

“I’m a sixth year.” She commented, because she couldn’t think of anything to say. She had to look upward at him now, because he was standing only a few feet away and he was much taller than her. She was tall for a girl, but he was monstrously tall. 

While she stood under his solitary gaze, Tom recalled all the words his friends would use to describe her.

Justus would say she was singular, delicate, and the most gorgeous specimen to lay his eyes on. Alphard would say he could fuck her until she passed out. Abraxas had described her like a ghost, a madwoman, yet his expression would tell all of the contorted things he imagined but would not voice.

Tom could understand all of these sentiments now in the dim light of the torches. Her long silver hair was tied back carelessly with curls falling about her face. Her grey eyes were a halo of light around those large dark pupils.

It was a surface level interest, but the contents of her mind were a winding path he wanted to learn. Her display in potions only doubled this interest.

“Yes, but hardly in the same sense that we are.” We. The Knights of Walpurgis, she knew. His following. His first loyal subjects. The implication sent a chill down her spine.

“You would hardly know where the Gryffindor common room is, anyhow.” She tried, turning to walk quickly away. She didn't even know if she was going in the right direction but he kept her pace easily, which indicated she had guessed right.

”I know where everything in this castle is.” Stop following me, she wanted to say. She couldn’t. She had to be nameless and boring. She had to fit into the crowd of faceless creatures he disregarded.

It was hard to fit into a crowd when there was none in sight.

Elizabeth refused to speak. Tom clearly did not. ”How are you finding your time here?” He asked.

Perhaps if she said something he disliked he would find her stupid and boring. ”It’s not as grand as I thought.”

Tom’s lips soured, but she kept her gaze straight. Chin high. Back erect. Like Ms. Mollin taught.

”That surprises me. Hogwarts is quite impressive.” He said. When she said nothing he continued. “You must have been to grand places to think such a thing.”

Elizabeth’s jaw clenched. Because she hadn’t been to grand places. Because she loved Hogwarts from the moment she saw it. From even before that. From the moment she had read that fucking book in fifth grade, she had loved Hogwarts.

This fictional place, brought to life. This incredible thing that she had the insurmountable privilege of stepping foot in.

“You haven’t.” she said. It sounded firm and cruel and very Slytherin.

“I haven’t,” he remarked, but sounded proud. “There will never be a place quite like Hogwarts.”

They’d finally breached the entrance of the dungeons and were now walking the open corridors of the castle. To Elizabeth’s delight, a man came into view just ahead.

Professor Ulius rounded a corner and caught sight of them. The arithmancy professor. ”Ah, Riddle! Caught a straggler out of bounds?” He asked, sounded delighted. Why does everyone love him so much?, Elizabeth thought in despair.

“Miss Greengrass was simply lost, Professor Ulius. Nothing that cannot be repaired.” He said. That charm was so upsetting. Yes, upsetting had to be the right word.

“Miss Greengrass! My dear, do not fret. This castle can be quite the labyrinth.” He said cheerfully.

Elizabeth spoke, desperate for a savior.

“Yes, professor I’m rather embarrassed to admit that I lost my way. But now that you are here you can point me in the proper direction.” An escape.

“Of course, of course. Tom is a wonderful pupil to have at such moments. Tell me Tom, how is that essay coming along?” Professor Ulius said excitedly. Like he’d just come across twenty galleons laying on the ground.

”Wonderfully, professor. I’m glad you do not find my requests a burden.” Tom said with all the grace of a prince.

”Nonsense! I can only hope to have such simulating company. I look forward to reading your retorts on my lecture. Though, I can’t say many students would voluntarily be so committed to the pursuit of knowledge. You know, Miss Greengrass, Tom here writes essays like a professor himself!” The professor said.

”We don’t have an essay due, do we Professor? I didn’t-,” Elizabeth started, ablaze with a deep flush. She hadn’t known they had homework due. She’d thought she’d taken great care in her classes to take notes and ensure—

“No no, my girl!” The professor laughed boisterously. “Tom here simply likes to write. Like no other, I daresay. His impromptu essays have become my great companions since his genesis as my student. They’re more of an extracurricular activity, right Tom?” Professor Ulius looked at Tom like he was an angel walking on earth. Elizabeth’s stomach recoiled.

”Rightly so, Professor. My dissertations are simply a hobby.” Tom replied humbly. Elizabeth knew that he certainly wasn’t humble.

“A hobby! How humble you are, Tom. I daresay you are a scholar amongst students. Though,” he added, looking to Elizabeth with a cheeky wink and smile, “don’t tell anyone else I said such things. I would hate to play favourites.”

They both laughed. A couple of scholars. Elizabeth held back the urge to scoff. He has you right where he wants you, don’t you know?

“But don’t you fret young lady. Aside from Tom I’ve never seen such a well structured summer essay from a student, much less someone so new. The two brightest in all my classes, right here, aren’t you?” He said this happily. Elizabeth clenched her fists. She had tried hard in her last essay. Very hard. She’d studied for months to catch up to the other students and upon her arrival had presented it proudly. She’d never studied so much in her entire life. Not for math or science. Arithmancy was something else all together. Magic, in general, was.

”Thank you, professor.” Elizabeth said, sounding light and glad with the compliment. It was half-praise from what he’d said about Tom.

”Miss Greengrass, you said you needed help finding—,” professor Ulius started, but Tom interjected.

“Oh, don’t worry Cornelian-, er…” he glanced over at Elizabeth, “Professor Ulius. I can escort her back to the Gryffindor common room.” Elizabeth’s stomach plummeted. It was so very calculated. Everything about Tom was. The 'accidental' use of his first name in a show of trust and camaraderie. He plucked his words from the air in a way that even the Malfoys couldn't manage. 

”Cornelian is alright in such good company, Tom. A student such as Aliena knows the importance of fellowship among academics, don’t you my girl?” He looked at Elizabeth with trusting eyes, but behind them she could tell they were assessing too. Assessing for compliance. A man’s world. Elizabeth smiled pleasantly and nodded. She didn’t need to say anything. She was a woman. Right.

“I’ll see you both in our lessons tomorrow. And,” Professor Ulius added as he walked past them, “Don’t stay up too late out of bounds. Young people are so energetic.” Those last words were an insinuation. A promise.

A promise to keep Tom safe from trouble.

An insinuation that Tom and Elizabeth were doing something they shouldn’t.

A boy and a girl. Elizabeth clenched her robes in her fists and continued forward while Tom called back a goodnight. Tom caught up with her with an easy two strides. They walked for a few steady beats of silence. Elizabeth was hoping it would stay that way, but things never seemed to go her way.

“What were we discussing again?” He asked. Elizabeth gritted her teeth and then made the manual effort to unclench her jaw.

Chin up high. Back straight. Like Ms. Mollin taught.

“Are you angry?” Tom asked. The question, like so many that night, had caught her off guard. She responded too quickly.

“No.”

”Do you not like Cornelian?” Cornelian.

”I do.”

”What he said offended you.” Tom commented.

”I don’t like insinuations.”

”Well, it’s only natural to think such things when seeing a young man and girl roaming the halls after curfew.” So he was a young man but she was a girl. The nerve of him. God, she wanted to throttle him. 

Elizabeth waited a beat to think and then responded. ”If he thought such things he should not have let us go, then.” And that was the truth.

”But what he said is obviously not true.” He said, scoffing at the absurdity.

”Obviously.” And she didn’t sound the least bit offended by Tom’s comment. In fact, she sounded firm and lofty. Normally, girls would have sounded offended, or bitter, or tried to insinuate otherwise. He’d never heard a response quite like that in his life. She wasn't complying to the role he set for her. 

“Are you a rule-follower then?” He asked. It was the only thing he could think to say while still sounding like a gentleman. It didn’t sound gentlemanly- though- when it came out.

She glanced sideways at him, catching him in his mistake. He tried not to bristle. He held his chin up and straightened his back. Like he’d taught himself.

“I do not know. I have just been caught out of bed after curfew.”

Tom nodded, looking up at the portraits on the wall and the glimmering suits of armor standing at attention.

“Abraxas says you’re a rule-breaker.” Tom dared to venture.

“Abraxas says I’m mad.” Elizabeth retorted, trying not to sound so vicious. Tom smirked to himself as he looked at a torch on the wall so she couldn’t see his expression.

”You aren’t mad.” Tom concluded, looking forward again.

“Aren’t I?” She questioned, but the smile was evident on her infliction. Tom couldn’t help himself. He looked over at her. She was looking upward at the tall vaulted ceilings and the rows of portraits. Those lips were curled up slightly at the edges. Almost wistful as she took in the castle.

Their walk had slowed to a languid step, and he hadn’t even realized. He hadn’t realized he’d been following her. Following her pace.

Her smile gave her away. She likes Hogwarts, he concluded. So why did she lie about it?

“Abraxas is a beautiful fool.” He commented as he turned straight again, not looking at her. To his pleasure, he saw her look over at him from his peripheral vision.

Pleasure? Why did that make him happy?

Perhaps she thinks I’m queer now, he thought after what he’d just realized he said about Abraxas. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her thinking he was queer for Abraxas of all people.

“Isn’t that the best thing one can be? A beautiful fool.” Elizabeth knew she shouldn’t say it but she said it anyway, completing his reference to The Great Gatsby.

Tom stopped walking. Elizabeth took another step. Another. And then stopped too, and dared to look back at him.

He was looking at her with a new expression. One she’d never seen before. It didn’t seem calculated. But she knew better. Everything about this boy was calculated.

He looked at her like he was looking at her for the first time.

“Is… Is that what you are? A beautiful fool?” He asked. He was searching. Searching her face for something. She smiled against her own will.

“Are you?” And it was rhetorical, because of the absurdity. Of course Tom wasn’t a fool. And so, of course she was not either.

Tom had at the very least been expecting a question about her beauty. ‘You think I’m beautiful?’ he’d expected. Yet again, she diverted from his game. It was more fun that way, anyhow.

Tom met her side and she continued along with his step before he came too close. And still.

God, was he beautiful. Elizabeth could punch herself in the face. This was a crazy murderer. He already had two horcruxes and he would kill Lily and James and everyone else, and he would try to kill Harry.

They walked.

Tom couldn’t keep silent, though, much to Elizabeth’s dismay.

“It wouldn’t be wise to inform your cousin you read muggle literature.” Tom said.

Elizabeth hummed in response. Abraxas already knew, and she didn't care. Everything to do with her cousin was so simple.

“I would think it would be more wise to not inform him that you do.” They had reached the grand staircase. The stairs were shifting noisily, and this was Elizabeth’s least favorite part of the castle. So confusing and inconvenient. Long to walk and spiteful for where she was supposed to be. She tried to hop onto the nearest step but Tom grabbed her arm and lead her over to another.

“This one,” he commented and stepped on, and then continued. ”It’s strange for someone to wander so much if they dislike Hogwarts.”

He changed the subject with so much grace Elizabeth had to give in. Actually, she thought she may be getting into dangerous territory if she’d continued on the previous subject, so she welcomed this one with grace.

“I enjoy walking.”

”There are plenty of grounds to walk.” He commented. Only then did Elizabeth realize he was still holding her arm. Gently. She tugged it away and he took a few respectful steps back. The staircase started to move and she held the ledge.

“I walk the grounds, too.”

And she did, he knew. She didn’t know that he knew.

She didn’t know how he watched her from tower windows. How he noticed her leaving the open doors in the morning. How made himself homes in the library windows or staircase alcoves to watch her struggle over the rocks and grasses that were the Scottish highlands.

“And do you find the grounds as ugly as you do Hogwarts?”

”I don’t find Hogwarts ugly.”

She said it too quickly, she realized. That smirk blooming at the corners of his mouth made it ever-so-clear. He didn’t look sinister in that moment. But she knew he could.

The staircase stopped and he continued upward. This time, she followed. A new staircase. They settled.

”You look much different from when we met.” He commented. He was staring at her. She hated it. The portraits slumbered in their frames.

Tom never failed to let silence linger. ”When did you start doing wandless magic?” he followed. It was an accusation and a casual comment wrapped in one.

“Since I got here.”

”You mean, since you got to England?” He asked.

Here could mean anything. Here could mean this world. ”I apperated without a wand.” She said. It was an incredible feat of magic to apparate so far being so young and without a wand. And this was all probably common knowledge, from the Daily Prophet. “From Sweden.”

”That’s pretty…,” He lingered in the silence. It was like the silence was his property. To command and use. “Impossible," he finished.

She sighed and continued up the steps, stepping over the gap just as it met the threshold. He followed her with his hands clasped behind his back. She knew he’d finish the silence if she didn’t. ”I was going to die. I suppose that’s when I started doing it.” When I was going to die.

“Death is persuasive.”

This held meaning to her that Tom would never understand. He wouldn’t understand her own knowledge of his regard for death. He wouldn’t understand how she had woken in this rotting body. How she had narrowly escaped death herself that day. How she stared into those bulging eyes of a father she had never known.

”I don’t fear death.” She said.

He scoffed. They walked up another staircase, but just as they were cresting the top, it shifted. She hated these stairs.

”I don’t.” She affirmed, confidently.

And it was true. She’d never feared death. Sometimes she would think of it late at night, alone in her bed, but even then she hadn't been afraid. Maybe it was youth. But sometimes she would think that Jesus would bring her to His kingdom in heaven. She had come to terms with the fact that if He didn’t, it would be her fault and her’s alone.

And she was satisfied with that.

Tom could never understand such things.

“There is not one person alive who does not fear death.” He said simply, as if he was reciting a fact.

She finally turned to him, holding the stone handrail. She looked down at him from a few steps up, and she saw what she knew was true from before she even met him. The one thing he feared above all else was death. And because he feared it, everybody else must as well. And if they did not, they must be an idiot. 

Good for her.

”To die would be an awfully big adventure.”

And there, in his eyes, she could see the recognition that laid in them. He knew muggle books well, if he knew Peter Pan. Maybe he’d read it in his childhood.

He turned and looked over at the shifting staircases with a subdued scowl. “A foolish sentiment.”

And was this boy Peter Pan? she thought. This boy who wanted to live forever?

“Then I suppose I am the beautiful fool a mother wished me to be.”

She said the words carefully. A mother. Not her’s, but ‘a’.

The staircase crested to a close, stone grinding against stone. She stepped up and then looked back down at his immovable figure.

He, like the stone staircase, could be a bust or a sculpture of beauty carved into it.

He refused to look up at her, his knuckles white against the handrail.

And perhaps she should say nothing at all. Should.

“I apperated 1,200 miles because I wanted to live, not because I was afraid to die.”

He finally looked up at her. He was so much more beautiful when he looked up. His eyes gave the illusion of being lighter, framed by his dark lashes and sculpted features.

“Did you fly?” It was childish coming from his mouth and he regretted it immediately. But a smile bloomed from her face like no other smile he’d ever seen before, and he rescinded his regret just as quickly as it had blossomed.

“I flew so far, and I wound up here at Hogwarts.” Here, with me, Tom thought. You flew here to me. He thought it greedily and desperately.

But he didn’t dare think those thoughts. And the stairs shifted loudly. He watched Elizabeth standing on the ledge. How she realized how far up she was, and how she immediately turned and rushed to that damned Gryffindor corridor and disappear out of sight. 

For the first time that night, Tom cursed the stairs for moving.

Elizabeth had a restless night and early morning. She walked and walked and almost missed breakfast.

“Where were you?” Saoirse asked, both curious and suspicious. The other girls watched on through their hair or similarly curious expressions, like they’d been discussing her right before she’d arrived.

“Walking on the grounds,” Elizabeth commented lightly laughing. She reached for a piece of toast and began to slather it with butter.

“So early? You did arrive late last night.” Gaia commented as she sipped morning tea. She clearly had long-finished breakfast. The other girls were busying themselves with their empty or half-eaten plates, at least pretending to eat.

“Yeah, I got lost.” Elizabeth surrendered.

”Lost? With whom?” Saoirse asked, leaning in excitedly. Elizabeth had only been there a couple days and they already thought Elizabeth had found a paramore. Distantly, she did suppose she was very pretty, in this body that belonged to Aliena. Was it normal for pretty girls to always have a boyfriend?

“With nobody.” Elizabeth assured.

”Portraits talk,” Terra said. She was aloof, as always. “You might as well spill.”

Yet, there was still a hint of interest. A hint that was significantly less than the rest of the girls, who were all leaning in expectantly now. Elizabeth had a large bite of toast and then swallowed at their expectant gazes. 

“Riddle found me in the dungeons. I got lost.” Elizabeth surrendered. Their eyes lit up expectantly.

”And?”

”What did he say?”

”You didn’t lose points, did you?”

Elizabeth slugged down some pumpkin juice in a fashion Ms. Mollin would surely be ashamed of. ”He took me back to the Fat Lady. It was entirely uneventful.”

”But did you talk?” Saoirse demanded greedily.

“Politely. Trust me. It wasn’t not eventful.” And they heard her tone and sour expression and deflated.

“How disappointing.” Saoirse commented disappointedly and leaned back. She didn’t look disappointed. She poorly-concealed a strange satisfaction. “Don’t worry, he’s above us all.” It sounded personal. Perhaps it was the idea that Elizabeth, too, was a victim of Tom’s superiority that made her seem more human to the other girls.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t trying.”

”Of course you weren’t,” Berniece commented sarcastically. Berniece seemed to enjoy gossip and sarcasm the most out of all the girls.

“I wasn’t.” Elizabeth insisted lightly, taking another bite. Her detached way of speaking seemed to sway them in her favor.

“Well, even if you were,” Gaia said, “he’s totally first class.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone catching his interest.” Natasha finally spoke for the first time. She sounded more excited about it than dismayed.

”But surely, if anyone were to catch his gaze it would be you.” Saoirse said. She sounded so confident in her compliment that it was almost embarrassing. Not at all jealous— just a matter-of-fact. It was blissfully refreshing. “But it sure would have been fun if he was.” She added, with a devious grin. It was these moments that Elizabeth liked.

“Oh I would kill to hear that,” Terra said, joining in on the girlish fun. “He has to be queer.”

“Just because you’re queer-,” Gaia said, elbowing Terra in the side joyfully. Terra laughed and shoved her back lightly.

“What ever,” Terra mocked and shoved an apple into her mouth. She stood, which signaled the rest, and they all stood. Elizabeth grabbed two apples and shoved them into her satchel and then downed her pumpkin juice.

”No, surely. Terra has a point. He must be queer if our Aliena can’t tempt his eye,” Berniece chided. She said this as if Elizabeth really was theirs. That they belonged to each other. Gryffindors. Roommates. Friends.

A lightness spread through Elizabeth and she couldn’t help but smile. As they exited the end of the table Saoirse and Berniece linked their arms through Elizabeth’s.

“You’re not using your beauty to it’s fullest potential. The games not over yet,” Saoirse tried.

”Oh, leave her alone,” Terra begged.

“How am I supposed to live through her if she doesn’t even try?” Saoirse demanded. They all laughed, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but join.

Tom sat at the Slytherin table. Watching, as he always watched. One by one, his followers had left for their classes, until it was just Tom sitting alone. Tom had never stayed so late at breakfast. He was normally the first to leave. But he sat. Watching.

Aliena walked by, laughing arm-in-arm with the Gryffindor girls who had taken her under their wing.

That smile. That laugh.

What are you laughing at?

Tom watched, and he coveted.

Elizabeth’s Friday classes went by pleasantly and swiftly. Her schedule left her Friday afternoons entirely open, and since it was only the first days of the school year they didn’t have too much homework to complete.

In Elizabeth’s past life, she would have procrastinated her homework until the night before. Or not complete it at all. If she did do her homework, it would be poor quality and half-assed. But for some reason, seeing the students running about and studying fervently in alcoves or in the Great Hall, she felt inspired. It was the same sense of inspiration she’d gotten during her stay at St. Mungo’s and at Malfoy Manor. 

Purely driven by her overwhelming appreciation for even having the privilege to study magic. To actually pull a book at random off the shelf and have a plethora of new and interesting information on the complexities of witchcraft and it’s history. It was a far cry from the second-hand information in her past life that she'd read about, or daydreamed of.

She found her way to the library, after asking a student for directions and getting lost only once.

It was large and glorious inside. Books floated up shelves. They were stacked on desks that students gathered around, whispering amongst themselves or reading silently in corners. The window’s cut a beautiful soft light into the room, dancing with dust.

Elizabeth glanced at the restricted section as she walked— significantly darker and chained shut. She continued down to the back, reading the sections and taking notice of the students. Most of them were much older— students who were proactively starting revisions for their N.E.W.T.s.

Elizabeth found an empty row between bookshelves and set out her things at one of the desks.

Elizabeth had already finished her upcoming homework assignments and revisions and it was still only four in the afternoon. She stretched and debated continuing to get ahead, even though she had already done quite a bit of that during the summer. She blew at the drying ink on her newly written Ancient Runes essay, which was due next week and the entire class had groaned at being assigned.

“Hello, Miss Greengrass,” A voice sounded. She looked up to find Dorian Nott standing before her, holding a large tome.

“Mr. Nott!” She said in slight surprise. She hadn’t even heard him coming. It made sense— he was very quiet, a bit tall, and lanky. He could easily blend into a wall if he wished.

“Call me Dorian,” he said. She didn’t expect that. He didn’t seem like the type to abandon formality so quickly. The only time she’d ever seen him before was in the Malfoy’s second library, or on the train.

”Oh! Call me Aliena, then,” she said with a nod. To her utter shock, he sat right next to her and set the heavy book on the desk.

”You caused quite the stir being sorted into Gryffindor,” he commented. In truth, Dorian Nott would never had been interested in Aliena under any other circumstances. It was only Tom’s instructions echoing in his mind after this semester’s first Knights of Walpurgis meeting the night before that echoed in his mind when he saw her sitting alone in the library.

“I want you all to keep a close eye on Aliena Greengrass. Become her friend if you can. There is something off about her, and it is in our interest to get to the bottom of it, through whatever means necessary.” Tom had said. Abraxas almost protested the instruction, but had thought better of it.

Surely Tom would be pleased if Dorian managed to befriend the girl only on their second day.

”Er… Yes. I suppose so,” She said, sounding like she didn’t at all want to talk about it.

”Already starting on your studies?” he asked with a small smile. Looking at him now, Elizabeth could see he was very handsome, in a strange gaunt sort of way. All of Abraxas’ friends were handsome, but Tom had outshined them so well that she hadn’t even taken notice of such a thing.

She briefly understood the Gryffindor girls’ infatuation with them.

It annoyed her deeply. Of course the most evil people in the school had the benefit of beauty. And of course Tom collected them like trophies in his collection of friends.

”Yes.” Elizabeth responded.

”It’s never too early to begin,” Dorian agreed. “Most overlook sixth year since our N.E.W.T.s aren’t for another year.”

“You’re not one of them,” Elizabeth commented.

”Neither are you.” Dorian agreed.

She was surprised at how pleasant he was being. A boy like Dorian Nott was quiet, and probably looked down on the world the same way the rest of the Slytherins did. Especially if he was friends with Tom. In the back of her mind she suspected Tom had put them up to this. Why else would he be talking to her?

She had thought she’d escaped their interest when she was sorted into Gryffindor. ”If you don’t mind, my I ask you something a bit… impertinent?”

This caused Dorian to raise a brow. He nodded. At least she had the decency to ask permission rather than just outright ask something disrespectful in the normal Gryffindor fashion. Of course, he reasoned with himself, she was a member of the Malfoy house. They taught her well.

”Why are you speaking to me right now? I thought you’d all hate me after... I was sorted into Gryffindor.”

Dorian tilted his head in consideration. ”I don’t care for such things.” And it was the truth.

”I thought all houses were a bit… prejudiced toward one another. Especially Slytherins. Oh, I meant no offense by—,” she said, blushing from her mistake. She felt strange going back to the respectful airs of the noble houses after her pleasant morning with her friends.

”Such sentiments are childish. I hold no grudge against Gryffindors. It is far better to judge one by the contents of their character, rather than a classification they could not choose.” That was very liberal in thought of him. She wondered if that sentiment carried into his thoughts on blood purity.

“A generous thought,” she commented.

”Do you not think the same?” He questioned.

“I do.”

”Did you think my friends and I share the same mind?”

Elizabeth blinked. “Well… No, of course not.”

“It seems Abraxas has taught you a bit of prejudice,” he mulled. He sounded a bit disappointed.

“I apologize for offending you.”

”Don’t bother, it’s quite alright. It is only natural to be lumped together with one's friends.” Dorian commented.

”Who one surrounds themselves shouldn’t be entirely ignored. It speaks volumes, actually.” Elizabeth defended.

Dorian mulled on this. “I suppose… you are not entirely wrong.”

”And neither are you. I shouldn’t have passed baseless judgement.” Elizabeth admitted.

He looked over at her in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to admit to her own faults. It was hardly commonplace in Slytherin. Perhaps the sorting hat had been right in not placing her there. She was nothing like them, despite her manners and family and connections. Dorian couldn’t help the small smile that infected his lips. ”It is refreshing to meet someone so open-minded to debate.”

She laughed shortly. It was a pleasant sound. And a pleasant sight, Dorian thought. If he didn’t know better he would have thought Tom’s interest was sexual or romantic in nature. Of course, he also knew that Tom was not the human boy he pretended himself to be.

”I would hardly call that a debate.” She said.

”Do you debate?” Dorian asked curiously.

She held her chin and then tilted her head in affirmation. ”If in good company.”

”Am I not good enough company for you?”

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “No, I never said that. I merely meant we would probably need to find a subject we disagree on to debate.”

Dorian nodded. “I’ll be sure to find one.”

She laughed again, and covered her mouth when a student shushed her. “Whoops,” she whispered.

“Would you like to continue this conversation elsewhere?” He asked.

That was a generous thing to offer. And suspicious. A boy like Dorian Nott, who was studying in the library with all the other bookworms and worrywarts, offering to leave just to talk to her? No, this was certainly a request orchestrated by Tom. This just confirmed it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t say such a thing. She could picture it now: Tom telling them all to get close to her. Did he suspect she had secrets to keep? He wasn’t stupid. Of course he knew she had secrets. The realization sent a chill down her spine. She maintained her composure well.

“No, no. I’ll let you return to your studies.” She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder and smiling.

”Good afternoon, Aliena,” he said.

”Good afternoon Dorian.”

Chapter Text

The next few weeks went by so quickly Elizabeth almost couldn’t keep track. Every moment seemed to be spent learning something more: about the students, about magic, about Hogwarts. She almost couldn’t catch her breath. She’d begun to keep a diary, writing down notes and details about others and the castle and everything she could think of.

She’d even written as much as she could possibly remember about her past life. Deep down, she feared most of all that she would slowly forget them. That she would become too comfortable in this life. That she would be selfish.

Late at night, she often found herself reading and re-reading those pages that recalled her past. The sloppy sketches of her family’s faces. Any time she thought of something new, she always added to the pages. They were cram packed with information— no room even in the margins. Dad prefers to use the small forks instead of the big ones. Mom’s favorite cookie is snickerdoodles, which is why they’re my favorite cookie too. When we drove up to grandpa and grandma’s house across the bay they would put on Jackson by Johnny and June Cash. I used to watch Barbie movies on the floor of their bedroom. I liked mixing ketchup into my mac and cheese. Dad used to call me pink arm when I broke my arm in kindergarten and had to wear a pink cast the entire summer. Mom used to sing My Little Sunshine before I fell asleep at night.

They were haphazard, random facts. Things that Elizabeth didn’t even realize she’d taken notice of or cherished so desperately. Now that she was gone, she held onto those memories with all she had.

Because of the secret information she had written, she spelled the diary well in order to prevent someone from snooping. Now, it only opened to her own hands, and nobody else’s. She hid it in her pillowcase-- just in case.

Elizabeth had naïvely thought the Slytherins would leave her alone. It was far too naïve of a thought.

In corridors, in the Great Hall, the Library, or even during classes she was always being approached. She actually had become quite skilled in avoiding them when she could. It seemed her thoughts about Dorian Nott being told to befriend her weren’t only reserved for Dorian.

No, all of them paid special attention to her. Some of them were more outspoken than others. Justus and Alphard, namely, always called her name and chased after her. Abraxas thankfully didn’t act unusual, but he still insisted on carrying her bags and speaking to her more than he normally would have. Tom was probably the worst. He laid the charm on so thickly that Elizabeth could have vomited from disgust.

The Gryffindor girls were eating it up. Even girls from other houses began to approach her, asking about the boys. Elizabeth had said time and time again that she was not friends with them, but none of the girls seemed to care about Elizabeth’s opinion.

The only ones who seemed to have any sense were the Slytherin girls. She often saw Amabel or Geneva glaring at her from the Slytherin table or around the halls. Amabel even managed to gossip about her very loudly in class or around corridors, when she was sure that Elizabeth could hear. Elizabeth had never been so overtly bullied before, and she actually thought it was quite refreshing. Until it wasn’t.

Elizabeth had never had a bucket of dirty water dumped on her head before. It certainly wasn’t enjoyable. She opened the bathroom stall and looked toward the symphony of girls giggling near the sinks. Amabel dropped the bucket to the floor with a loud clatter.

”Whoops! I didn’t know anybody was in there,” she said with a vicious red smile. The other girls broke into more laughter— all Slytherin sixth years. Elizabeth raised a brow at them. Thankfully, she didn’t have her satchel with her and had been in the middle of exploring the castle when she’d decided to take a quick bathroom break. At least none of her things got dirty.

”Very creative,” Elizabeth commented, taking her wand out of her sleeve and waving it over herself, muttering a cleaning charm. She was glad she had been reading about some of the more mundane everyday spells in her free time. She was even cleaner now than she had been before.

Elizabeth brushed by them to the sink, where she started washing her hands. Amabel shoved her arm next to Elizabeth in what may have been an intimidating stance. If Elizabeth hadn’t been a bit taller than Amabel. Elizabeth turned and looked down her nose at her. Amabel sneered at her. ”You’re disgusting. No amount of cleaning spells could get rid of that putrid smell.”

Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows and smelled her own shoulder theatrically. ”Interesting. Maybe you’re not used to people who don’t use up half a perfume bottle everyday.”

Amabel spat. Right onto Elizabeth’s cheek.

”I don’t know who you think you are, running around trying to whore yourself out to whomever looks in your direction. They will never like you.” Amabel said viciously.

Elizabeth used her thumb to wipe away the spit and simply ran her hand under the faucet again before turning it off.

”Oooo,” Elizabeth mocked, “I’m so scared.” She turned to leave, when Amabel kicked her legs out from under her and Elizabeth fell on her ass. They all broke into shrill hideous laughter. Elizabeth looked up at Amabel, standing above her with that sinister smile.

White hot rage overtook Elizabeth in a way she’d never felt before. It was hard to anger her. Even in the height of an argument, Elizabeth always managed to stay cool and level-headed, which more often than not managed to anger whoever she was fighting with more.

But Elizabeth wasn’t exactly level-headed when she grabbed Amabel’s ankle and yanked as hard as possible. Amabel fell to the floor, banging the back of her head against the stone floor. Before Amabel even had time to recover, Elizabeth was on top of her, hitting her face as hard as she possibly could. One punch right after the other. Before Elizabeth could continue, she was yanked harshly up by her hair from one of the other girls and was thrown back onto the floor. Two of the girls began to kick her in the stomach and back, and the others came to Amabel’s rescue, helping her up as Amabel cried.

Elizabeth hollard out and dragged one of the girls down with a fist of her robes, while the other yanked Elizabeth up again by the hair so she had to let go. Elizabeth brought her hands up to the girl holding her, struggling hard, but Amabel was standing up right before her now. She spat again, and this time it was full of blood that splattered across Elizabeth’s face. Amabel’s nose was bleeding heavily, into her mouth. Her eye was already swollen and turning a deep shade of purple. When she spoke her teeth were bloody. Her pristine hair was wild and ruined and her face streaked with tears.

”You’ll pay for that, Greengrass,” Amabel said, pulling out her wand. Elizabeth snarled, struggling again, but another girl had gotten to the other side and was holding her arms behind her back firmly.

“What are you gonna do, huh, coward?” Elizabeth countered viciously. She’d never been in a fight or a duel before, but the wand pressed against her throat didn’t deter her.

”Watch the door,” Amabel barked behind her, and one of her lackies went to the door and stood against it with crossed arms.

“I’m gonna teach you a much needed lesson. You’ll think twice before drooling after Tom-,” Amabel said.

Elizabeth burst into laughter.

”That’s what this is about?! Tom?” She laughed again, and the girl yanked her by her hair painfully, and the laugh turned guttural and sharp.

Amabel struck Elizabeth across the face hard. Elizabeth met her eyes again. Her silver eyes almost glowed as she looked up with a dangerous glare.

”Don’t tell me you’re in love with him,” Elizabeth mocked. Amabel struck her other cheek. Elizabeth’s hair hung over her face.

”You know nothing. Tom belongs to us.”

”Aren’t you engaged?” Elizabeth taunted.

Another girl whacked Elizabeth upside the head. “He’s all of ours.”

Elizabeth scoffed. “What is this? A harem?”

”He’s off limits.” The girl holding Elizabeth’s arms said, tightening her grip painfully.

“Don’t worry, girls.” Amabel said, sounding strangely excited in a way that sent Elizabeth’s heart plummeting. “She’ll learn. After we’re through with her she won’t be recognizable.”

”Amabel, if we maim her she’ll tell—,” one of the girls said, suddenly sounding afraid.

”A few scars, a memory charm, and nobody will know the wiser.” Amabel said.

”A memory- but Amabel, that’s too advanced.” Another of the girls said. Her voice was shaky.

”If I screw it up, then it will hardly matter. Perhaps she’ll go back to where she belongs— St. Mungo’s. She’s already crazy,” Amabel said.

Oh. Oh. They were going too far, now. Elizabeth sighed out her mouth.

”Amabel-,” the girl at the door called just as Amabel raised her wand to strike. And then all hell broke loose.

Elizabeth could hardly blame herself. They’d backed her into a corner, and she couldn’t very well let them maim her mind and body.

All of the windows shattered, shards of glass flying throughout the bathroom. The girls screamed and ducked. The ones who had been holding Elizabeth let her go, and they tried to get out of the way. None of them were very successful. Elizabeth had raised an invisible shield, and the shards bounced off of it and onto the other girls.

It was over in a second.

“Wha-,” Amabel said, looking up at the room covered in glass. She had a small piece of glass stuck out of her arm and her face was now covered in small scratches. All of them were, and some of them began to cry.

Elizabeth stood, looking down on Amabel’s crouching form. A small halo of glass-free stone under her feet where the attack had bounded off.

Elizabeth's voice was quiet and level when she said, ”Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to fuck with mad people?” She grabbed Amabel by the shirt and tugged her up. “And about Tom-,”

”What about me?” A voice drawled. Elizabeth and Amabel’s heads turned to the doorway, where Tom stood leaning against the threshold. The girl who was supposed to be guarding the door was looking at them with fear in her eyes.

Oh, so she had been trying to warn them about Tom's arrival. Elizabeth growled and threw Amabel back on the floor covered in glass, which must have hurt because she yelped in pain.

”Tell your groupies that I’m not your mistress. They seem to have gotten foolish ideas in their heads.” She said angrily as she approached him.

He had a single tiny cut on his cheekbone, beading with blood. Groupies? He thought. He’d never heard of such a word, but could inference her meaning.

“Tom!” Amabel exclaimed, eyes wet and looking ever the innocent victim.

”I assure you I’ve never hinted otherwise.” He said with a smile, looking only at Elizabeth. He sounded strangely delighted.

“While we’re on the subject, tell your friends that if they keep following me around trying to play nice, I’ll show them what I think of your friendship.” She spat out. Her residual anger still hadn’t ebbed.

”And what is it that you think of my friendship?” He asked.

“That I want nothing to do with you, or any of them. Just leave me alone.” She said. As she tried to pass him, he caught her arm.

”Tom, she attacked us!” Amabel shouted shrilly. Her voice was shaking and she’d managed to stand. He didn’t even glance at her.

”Or what?” he dared to ask Elizabeth. She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but he only held her tighter.

”Tom!” Amabel begged for his attention. For him to listen to her. He ignored her still. When Elizabeth glared at him without responding, not breaking his gaze, he smiled at her again.

”You’ve caused quite a mess, Miss Greengrass.” He commented.

Elizabeth looked back at the bathroom, the girls huddled on the floor and Amabel standing amidst the mess. All of them were crying now. Elizabeth waved her hand, and all the glass rose up from the floor and out of wounds and gathered back to the window, where they pressed and melted back together in perfect form. Elizabeth met his eyes again. His eyes glimmered at her.

When she tried to tug her arm away again, he still held firm. ”I should escort you to the hospital wing,” he tried.

Elizabeth sneered. “I’m not the one injured.”

“Really? You’re bleeding.” he commented, his eyes roving over her face. Elizabeth glanced in one of the mirrors. Her face was splattered with blood.

”It’s not my blood.” she said. “It’s her’s.” Elizabeth pointed with her thumb to Amabel, who was slowly shifting closer toward Tom, holding her arms around herself. Her robes were shredded with small red cuts glaring out from the tears of fabric. Tom looked over Amabel briefly, looking a bit bored, and then back to Elizabeth. ”It seems so.” he finally said, and let go of her arm. Before she could walk off, he added, “Ten points from Gryffindor. And forty points from Slytherin.” Amabel exclaimed in outrage. “But she-!”

”And each of you will be having a meeting with your heads of house. Detention, for all of you.” he glanced back to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth shrugged and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Tom called, sounding annoyed now.

”Dumbledore’s office. I've got a meeting, now.” She said, not even looking back.

Tom's eyes followed her as she turned and disappeared down the corridor. Amabel finally reached him, grabbing onto his arm. She started to try and cry to him, or explain her innocence, but Tom roughly pulled himself from her touch.

”Don’t touch me,” he said viciously. He glared at them all darkly. They looked terrified.

“And if you do anything like this ever again, what will happen to you will be much… much worse.”

Tom was annoyed. He had stumbled upon the scene with morbid delight. Elizabeth being held captive by some brutish Slytherin girls, a wand to her throat, glaring up at them with all the hatred in the world. He had taken in the sight with happy pleasure, but just as he stepped forward to come to her rescue…

Well, it seemed Elizabeth hadn’t needed rescuing. He frowned at the thought. If he had managed to save her, would she have softened? Would she have looked up at him with tear filled doe eyes, and thanked him? Would she have found safety in his arms?

It would have been easy. It would have been perfect.

Those girls didn’t know what they were doing. He would have his revenge on them, privately and in secret so they would never know it was him.

He recalled that look of pure hatred on her face, splattered with blood. The wrath as she looked down on those pathetic worms.

Even though he didn’t have his way, a different sort of victory was won that day in the girls bathroom. And with it, a sinister pleasure.

He reported the girl’s actions to Slughorn immediately while they were still in the hospital wing, healing from their injuries. ”They attacked Aliena in the bathroom. Five on one. It was quite a horrible thing to see.”

Slughorn took in this information with a grave look on his face. “Bullying such a bright, innocent girl. She’s already been through so much…”

”It was despicable. I’m… ashamed they’re even in Slytherin.” Tom confided, making sure he sounded as if he was sharing a tense secret. Slughorn nodded. He listened to Tom’s story with great respect.

“Don’t worry, Tom. They’re punishments will suit their actions.”

After easy investigation, Tom found that the girls had indeed been punished well. Two months of detentions, letters sent to each of their families, a two page written apology to Aliena, and a scathing meeting with Headmaster Dippet which resulted in each of them leaving one by one sobbing from his office.

Tom had learned with great interest that Aliena had only received one detention for fighting with Amabel, and her “accidental” magic causing great injury to the girls. Tom knew that it wasn’t accidental. Not in the slightest. Not after what he’d seen her do when she repaired the damage. And even before then in the library at the Malfoy’s on the fateful night he’d met her.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Tom found great delight in each of the girls privately. None of them knew it was him. Each of them had been crucioed thoroughly, and had their memories wiped of who’d done it. He also mentally warped their minds to suggest that they should never seek to find out who did.

He especially took his time with Amabel, who never seemed fully right from that day on. She flinched at loud noises, and had deep purple marks under her eyes that indicated she wasn’t sleeping well.

The howlers each of them had received were delightful. Each time a new one arrived, Tom looked across the hall to try and gauge Elizabeth’s reaction. To hopefully catch a glimpse of delight or satisfaction. He never did. She only continued to eat silently with a blank look, sometimes speaking to her friends, and sometimes saying nothing at all. It was utterly disappointing.

The drama of the event that happened in the girls bathroom was discussed for weeks. Her newfound friends had taken to escorting Elizabeth everywhere. Even her time spent exploring the castle was always interrupted by somebody who wanted to “tag along”.

It was through this protectiveness the Gryffindor’s had adopted that Elizabeth got to know the sixth year boys a bit better.

There were six of them total, so Elizabeth’s newfound presence as a Gryffindor sixth year girl evened out the disproportionate sizes of the boys versus girls. Before her arrival there had only been five girls. 

Harvey and Edward were most familiar to her, so she especially gravitated toward them. There were two boys with heavy Irish accents that Elizabeth had learned were only born three months apart.

She thought it a funny thing that the two Irish boys were Irish twins. She didn’t want to try and think about how that pregnancy went.

They weren’t alike at all.

Their names were Conor and Declan Sullivan.

Conor was the oldest and more handsome. He was shorter, only one inch taller than Aliena herself, and had baby blue eyes and messy dirty blonde hair. His smile was charming and he was thinner than his brother.

Declan was a few inches taller and far more muscular. His face was longer and chin rounder, and his hair was darker although equally as messy. He, unlike Conor’s happy-go-lucky personality, always seemed to be scowling or gloomy. And yet, watching them interact told more about both of them than Elizabeth would have known.

Despite Declan’s more hardened appearance, he was a bit soft at heart and forgetful. Conor was responsible enough for the both of them, and despite his loudness in group settings he was quiet one-on-one.

The other two boys were also seemingly total opposites. The first was ginger, with light red hair and pale skin. His eyelashes and eyebrows were pale and he had a youthful boyish appearance.

His name was Michael Davies, and after some whispering in the halls, Elizabeth had discovered he was a muggleborn.

Anthony Oakwood was pale, lanky, and had long messy black hair that reached his shoulders. He was frog-like in appearance and had dark brown eyes and freckles all over his face. While quite, he never shied away from anything that might hint at an adventure.

It was very difficult to keep track of all the new faces. The group was so loud and large that Elizabeth often found herself sitting quietly in order to listen in.

By the middle of October, she had gotten a handle on how they each interacted, and had found herself a place among them.

She couldn’t tell if the Slytherin’s backing off on their attempt to befriend her had been because of what she’d said to Tom, what she’d done to the Slytherin girls, or her newfound Gryffindor posse that never left her alone for more than a few minutes at a time. After a month and a half, Elizabeth still didn’t have a full grasp on the complexities of the castle. But she had fallen into a good routine with her studies, taking every assignment very seriously. She found that she learned and finished her work much faster than most students. It was partially because she’d already thoroughly read the textbooks before her arrival at Hogwarts. It was also partially because her skills at magic were exemplary. They were only rival to Tom, who she had continued to fervently avoid.

They had their own spot in the Gryffindor common room: a corner that had armchairs and sofas crowded around a crackling fireplace. It was alive with chatter and laughter after dinner. Nobody was shy of sitting close together, laying their feet over laps and the girls playing with one another’s hair. Elizabeth was curled up on a pillow on the floor in front of the sofa, Gaia Lavender braiding and unbraiding her long white locks while she hummed softly. She didn’t stay quiet for long— always the center of attention and conversation.

"I swear, Edward, half the stands were staring at you during tryouts today. You must’ve caught everyone’s eye," she said, with a playful smile.

Edward laughed nervously, his dark hair falling into his blue eyes as he tried to brush off the compliment. "They were probably just hoping I wouldn’t crash into the goalposts again," he joked, his gaze briefly flicking to Elizabeth before he turned his attention back to the group.

That afternoon the girls and boys had hiked up to the Quidditch pitch in the blistering chill autumn air in order to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts. They had lasted a long time, and it was very difficult to see with how quickly everybody was flying. Elizabeth had given up her attempt at understanding the game halfway through. While she’d never really enjoyed watching sports, she did enjoy the atmosphere. The boys- Conor, Declan, and Anthony- all fervently narrated the scrimmage from the stands.

"Not exactly my finest hour today." Michael Davis said glumly. He had tried out, but his performance was lackluster compared to the others. Despite this, he hadn’t let it totally ruin his spirits. He claimed afterward at dinner that he knew he wouldn’t make it, but he still liked to try out each year anyway.

Natasha Dunn, sitting quietly in the corner, piped up in her soft, thoughtful voice. "You flew fine, Michael. Most people were too busy watching Harvey send that Bludger straight at the poor Keepers to notice anything else." Her brown eyes briefly caught Harvey Weasley’s as she smiled, the long scar down her cheek catching the firelight.

Harvey grinned, leaning back with a casual air of confidence. "That Bludger had a mission, and it wasn’t my fault it took out a few Keepers. Gryffindor needs to win, right?"

Berniece Craft, his girlfriend, shot him a sharp look, her dark eyes narrowing playfully. "Yeah, sure, Harvey. You keep telling yourself that. But if you play that rough with me, you’re the one who’s going to need a hospital wing bed."

Harvey laughed, unbothered. "Wouldn’t dare, love."

Terra Prewett, who sat cross-legged next to Berniece, snorted. "Right. Like you’d let him live long enough to even get to the hospital wing." She stretched her arms above her head, her toned frame evident as she did so. "You’ve got him completely under control."

Elizabeth smiled faintly, watching the easy banter between them. "Someone’s got to keep him in line. Gryffindor can’t afford to lose our captain," Berniece said.

Saoirse Hawks, who was lounging near the window with her usual fierce energy, grinned at the mention of Quidditch. "Yeah, after watching those tryouts, we might actually stand a chance. Especially with Harvey and Hugo smashing through everything in their path."

From what Elizabeth had gathered, Hugo was a fifth year beater who had blown everybody else out of the water. Well, everybody except Harvey.

Conor Sullivan, ever the lively one, winked at Saoirse. "You love it when they’re rough on the pitch, don’t you?"

Saoirse raised an eyebrow, her blue eyes flashing dangerously but with a hint of warmth. "Only if they keep their hands to themselves."

“Except for the Slytherins, of course,” Gaia added cheekily. Saoirse giggled.

The boys booed loudly and threw pillows at the two girls, who laughed and ducked away. ”Where’s your sense of house loyalty? I mean— honestly! Those brutes will take any chance to cheat their way to the top!” Michael exclaimed.

Declan Sullivan, Conor’s quieter twin, spoke from the shadows where he sat. His voice was calm, and sarcastically playful. "I’m afraid that doesn’t matter to them."

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, since we’re all too good for some slimy snakes,” Terra exclaimed firmly.

Gaia leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama. "Speaking of people being too good for someone—Aliena," Gaia said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Elizabeth tilted her head back against Gaia’s knees and looked up at her, "you’ve got half of Gryffindor wondering why Edward hasn’t made his move yet."

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed from embarrassment, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to avoid the teasing glances being thrown her way. "Gaia, please…"

Edward, his face reddening as well, tried to laugh it off. "I’m—uh—just focusing on Quidditch, actually. Priorities, you know."

Michael Davies, sitting on the floor with a playful grin to match Gaia's, jumped in to diffuse the tension. "Quidditch, riiight. Because that’s all that’s on your mind, Spencer." He winked a few times dramatically, drawing a round of laughter from the group.

"Smooth, Michael," Anthony Oakwood added from the other side of the room, his voice dry and detached as usual. "Real smooth."

Michael shrugged, unbothered by the jab. "Hey, it’s just strategy. Keeps us on our toes."

Berniece rolled her eyes. "You mean it keeps you on your toes."

Gaia snickered, clearly enjoying herself as she turned the conversation back to her favorite pastime—gossip. "Oh, come on, Berniece. We all know the real reason Michael’s distracted—he’s got his eye on that Hufflepuff girl."

Michael’s eyes widened in mock horror. "What? I do not!" His protests were met with another wave of laughter, his flushed face and squeaky voice betraying him.

Natasha, ever the voice of reason, spoke up gently. "Maybe we should be a little less cruel. Not everyone’s trying to make it onto Witch Weekly’s gossip pages."

Terra grinned, glancing at Gaia. "Speak for yourself. Gaia’s practically waiting for her invitation."

Gaia flipped her hair, unfazed. "Of course I am. Someone’s got to bring some glamor to this place."

Saoirse scoffed. "Glamor? We’re covered in mud half the time from these Quidditch jerks or running from Peeves. You’re dreaming, Lavender." She was referring to earlier, when after tryouts Michael had incited a war in which they chased the girls around throwing wet mud at them. The girls, thoroughly angry, had given him a run for his money. But by the end, they were all laughing and the girls hadn't minded too much that their clothes were dirty. And Micheal didn't mind that he was caked in so much mud he looked like he was made of it.

Elizabeth noticed Gaia’s gaze linger a little too long on Edward, the hint of something unspoken flickering in her brown eyes. It was subtle—Gaia was good at masking her emotions—but Elizabeth had learned to pick up on the small tells over time.

Gaia, lounging gracefully in her chair, casually twirled a strand of her sleek brown hair around her finger. "You know," she began, her tone light but a little too deliberate, "not everyone can pull off that kind of last-minute save, Edward. You’ve really stepped up this year. Almost as if you’ve got something to prove."

Edward, who had been watching the fire, glanced up at her, looking a little caught off guard by the directness of her compliment. "Uh, thanks, Gaia," he said with an awkward chuckle. "Just trying to keep up with the rest of the team. Harvey’s been working us all pretty hard."

"Harvey pushes everyone hard," Gaia replied, her voice more measured now, as if she was treading carefully. "But you—well, you’ve got a natural talent. Don’t you think, Aliena?"

Elizabeth blinked, surprised that the conversation had turned back to her. She glanced between Gaia and Edward. "Yeah," she said after a brief pause, feeling the weight of both their gazes on her. "Edward’s a great Seeker. The obvious choice."

Edward smiled appreciatively at Elizabeth, though his expression was tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "You’re too kind. Honestly, I just don’t want to let the team down."

Gaia’s smile tightened slightly, though she kept up her usual playful demeanor. "Oh, don’t be modest, Edward. Everyone’s been talking about how well you’ve been doing—especially certain Ravenclaws. You’ve caught quite a bit of attention lately."

The words were innocent enough on the surface, but Elizabeth could hear the subtle edge behind them. Gaia wasn’t just talking about Quidditch; she was probing, fishing for something more. Elizabeth could tell that Gaia had been watching Edward more closely than she let on—perhaps even more than anyone realized.

And the jokes about him and Elizabeth? They had largely been made by Gaia herself. Elizabeth started to suspect that they came with something. Perhaps jealousy, or maybe a desire to come between whatever Edward felt toward Elizabeth.

Elizabeth wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed Edward’s lingering gazes. How he ran to catch up with her and carry her bag between classes. How he noticed where she was and always stuck around a little longer, wherever she lingered.

Berniece, never one to miss an opportunity for gossip, picked up on the shift immediately. "Oh, is that right?" she said with a sly grin. "Ravenclaws, you say? Which ones? Or is it all of them fawning over Gryffindor’s golden boy?"

Edward shifted uncomfortably, clearly not enjoying being the focus of such attention. "I wouldn’t know. I’m just… focused on the matches, really."

"Focused," Gaia echoed, her voice soft but laced with an undertone of something more. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes flicking toward Elizabeth for just a moment before returning to Edward. "It’s good to stay focused. You wouldn’t want any distractions."

Saoirse, watching from her spot near the window, raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Merlin’s beard, Gaia, give him a break. The boy’s not thinking about Ravenclaws or distractions. He’s thinking about the snitch. Right, Spencer?"

Edward laughed awkwardly again, grateful for the out. "Right, exactly. The snitch. That’s all I’ve got time to think about."

"Sure," Berniece chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because no Gryffindor ever thinks about anything but Quidditch."

Harvey chuckled and lightly elbowed her side. She returned the gesture. Their more subdued, quiet intimacy was a surprise. Elizabeth had thought Gryffindors would be more overt with their affections. In fact, many were. She saw other Gryffindor couples in corridors or at the Great Hall, not at all shying away at all from public displays of affection. But Berniece and Harvey were more calm and subtle than that. It gave an air of maturity that seemed out of character for both of them.

Conor Sullivan, who had been watching the whole exchange with a bemused smile, piped up. "Come on, Edward, just admit it. Who’ve you got your eye on, eh? You can’t tell me you’ve spent all this time at Hogwarts and haven’t noticed anyone."

The room fell quiet for a moment, all eyes on Edward. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything Gaia cut in smoothly, her voice light but pointed. "Oh, I’m sure Edward’s just too focused on the game to get caught up in all that. Aren’t you, Spencer?"

Elizabeth watched, feeling a strange twist in her stomach. Gaia’s words were laced with something more—something possessive, almost protective. It wasn’t jealousy exactly, but there was a certain way Gaia’s gaze lingered on Edward, as though she was trying to keep a firm grip on something slipping just out of her reach.

Edward, for his part, seemed completely oblivious. He just shrugged and gave another awkward laugh. "Yeah, exactly. Just trying to keep my head in the game, that’s all."

Terra, sensing the growing tension, decided to change the subject. "Well, I’m pretty sure we’re going to crush Slytherin this year," she said, stretching her arms above her head. "They’ve been getting sloppy. I can see it in the way they’re training."

"That’s because Slytherin is full of dirty players," Saoirse chimed in, her fierce loyalty to Gryffindor shining through despite the affection she harbored for her precious Slytherin clique. "They’ll try anything to win, but we’ve got more heart."

Gaia leaned back again, her playful smile returning. "You’re right, Saoirse. We’ve got the best team this year." She let the sentence hang, her eyes briefly flicking toward Elizabeth once again.

Elizabeth shifted in her seat, feeling the weight of Gaia’s attention. There was something unsaid between them, something that lingered. A barely palpable tension that wasn’t quite jealousy, but it was close—an unspoken acknowledgment that things were shifting, that Edward’s focus was perhaps no longer where Gaia wanted it to be.

The fire crackled softly, the conversation moving on to Quidditch strategies and Slytherin rivalries, but the unspoken words between Gaia and Elizabeth hung in the air, unnoticed by the others but keenly felt by both of them.

The first Hogsmeade trip was looming during that week. Everybody was in high spirits, constantly talking about their excitement and making plans. Elizabeth was excited too, but only expressed it when agreeing to make trips to certain stores or pubs. It seemed the main focus was actually getting as drunk as humanly possible and smuggling bottles of liquor and cigarettes back into the castle.

Elizabeth hadn’t even considered the idea of a date until a Hufflepuff boy she distantly recognized to be in a few of her classes approached her in the Great Hall during lunch.

She didn’t even remember his name. He stumbled over his own words until he asked her the fateful question, “W-would you like to attend Hogsmeade with me this weekend? If you don’t have any, er, any plans a-already.”

The girls watched non-subtly as they immediately gathered together in clumps.

Elizabeth opened her mouth, not quite knowing what to say. She wanted to reject him, but couldn’t find the words.

To Elizabeth’s horror, Michael Davies spoke up. “She’s already coming with us, Mallow.” Elizabeth looked over at him with wide eyes and then back up to the boy. His face flushed deeply and he shifted where he stood. ”Oh. Er- that’s alright. Maybe next time!” He said quickly, and then rushed out of the hall. Edward punched Michael in the arm. “You twat, that was so rude!”

The girls were already gushing and gossiping, all speaking over each other at once. As they chattered, Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt. It was really quite brave of him to approach her. In the Great Hall in front of all her friends no less. And she hadn’t even known his name. And in a deep corner of herself, a part that Elizabeth hated, she was glad that she wasn't the one on the receiving end of their teasing.

Because here, she was with them, not watching from the outside. She wasn't awkward or weird or wanting to be a part of it. She was in it, for the first time in all her life. So while she did feel pity, she couldn't bring herself to come to his defense. Not when she wanted this so much.

Gaia leaned in toward Elizabeth with a conspiratorial grin. "Oh my God, Aliena! Did you see his face? He was absolutely smitten with you! This is huge!"

Berniece snorted, her dark eyes narrowing in amusement. "Yeah, and he practically sprinted out of here when Michael opened his big mouth. Good job, Davies," she added sarcastically, throwing a glance at Michael, who was grinning unapologetically.

"Someone had to save her," Michael said with a shrug, clearly unbothered by the criticism. "Aliena wasn’t going to say yes to that poor guy anyway, were you?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth, still feeling a bit flustered by the sudden attention. "I—I don’t even know him," she stammered. "I didn’t want to be rude, but—"

"You didn’t have to worry about it," Michael cut in, winking at her. "I handled it for you."

While he had been rather rude, Elizabeth sent him a small grateful smile. He was right— she was kind of glad he’d rescued her.

Edward, however, was still glaring at Michael, who was still rubbing the spot on his arm where he’d punched him. "You could’ve let her handle it herself, mate. She doesn’t need you jumping in and embarrassing people like that."

Gaia, clearly enjoying the drama, chimed in with a smirk. "It was a bit harsh, Michael. But honestly, Aliena, you could do so much better than some nervous Hufflepuff. You’ve got options."

"Yeah," Berniece added dryly, crossing her arms. "Like maybe someone who can actually form a coherent sentence when he talks to you."

Elizabeth groaned inwardly as her roommates continued to speculate about her so-called ‘options,’ feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. She hadn’t even thought about dating anyone since coming to Hogwarts, let alone had plans for the Hogsmeade weekend. And now this entire conversation had spiraled out of control.

"I’m not even thinking about going on a date," she said firmly, trying to cut through the chatter. "I’m just looking forward to having fun with all of you."

Saoirse, who had been quietly observing from the side with a knowing smirk, finally spoke up. "Aww, our little dove! That’s probably for the best. These boys only cause trouble anyway. You don’t need to worry about them. Besides, we’ve got better things to do in Hogsmeade than worry about dates, don’t we?"

Conor, sitting nearby and snickering at the exchange, leaned forward and gave Elizabeth a mischievous look. "Yeah, like sneaking Firewhisky out of the Three Broomsticks. We’ve got a real plan going, right, Harvey?"

Harvey, who was busy stuffing his face with food, raised an eyebrow at the mention of his name. "What? Oh, yeah. Firewhisky. Big plans."

Terra rolled her eyes at the boys but grinned. "See? That’s the real fun in Hogsmeade, Aliena. Not awkward dates with Hufflepuffs."

Despite herself, Elizabeth laughed, feeling the tension lift as the conversation shifted away from Mallow and the embarrassing rejection. But as she glanced over at Edward, she noticed that he wasn’t quite laughing along with the others. His jaw was clenched, and he seemed more focused on his plate than on the conversation happening around him.

Gaia, ever the observer, noticed too. She tilted her head and gave Edward a sidelong look. "You’re awfully quiet, Spencer. Something on your mind?"

Edward’s eyes flicked up to meet Gaia’s, then shifted briefly to Elizabeth before he shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "Nah, just thinking about practice. Hogsmeade can wait."

But Elizabeth wasn’t so sure. There was something in the way Edward had looked at her—something more guarded, more hesitant than usual. He’d been different around her lately, more distant, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was just the pressure of Quidditch and studies.

Still, as the conversation swirled around her, Elizabeth couldn’t shake the feeling that the upcoming Hogsmeade trip was going to be a lot more complicated than she’d originally thought.

Chapter Text

Tom sat at the head of the room, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, dark eyes glinting with an air of casual authority as the low murmur of conversation drifted through the chamber. The meeting, while productive, had turned to gossip and quidditch— subjects that Tom tended to sit out of.

The conversation shifted when Mulciber leaned forward, a sneering smirk playing on his lips. "You'll never guess what I overheard in the Great Hall today. Seems like Aliena Greengrass rejected some poor Hufflepuff sap in front of the entire room."

Tom’s eyes flicked toward him, though he didn’t move otherwise, allowing the shadows of interest to slip into his gaze without betraying too much. “Oh?” he said softly, his tone measured. “Do go on.”

Mulciber’s grin widened, enjoying the attention. “Some Hufflepuff boy—Mallow, I think? He worked up the nerve to ask her to Hogsmeade this weekend. And right there, in front of everyone, Michael Davies from Gryffindor shoots him down on her behalf. She didn’t even have to say a word.”

A murmur of amusement rippled through the room. Alphard chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Poor bloke. Can’t say I’m surprised. She’s not the type to go for someone like that, is she?”

Tom’s gaze remained fixed on Mulciber, his mind already working. Aliena had always struck him as someone who preferred to stay under the radar, never openly involving herself in school politics or social games, up until that fateful encounter in the bathroom.

Yet this rejection, orchestrated by one of her so-called Gryffindor friends, told him more than the surface interaction. She wasn’t avoiding connections out of shyness—it was calculated. She was biding her time, keeping herself distant for a reason. And she wielded her newfound friends in the same manner Tom himself wielded the Knights of Walpurgis.

“Interesting,” Tom murmured. His voice was low, almost absent-minded, though it commanded immediate attention. The room quieted, the weight of his presence shifting the atmosphere. “And what did she do? When her friend intervened?”

Mulciber hesitated, sensing the subtle change in tone. “She didn’t say much, really. Just looked surprised. But it’s clear the girl has no interest in fumbling idiots like him.”

Tom nodded slowly, allowing the information to settle. Aliena was maintaining her distance from the usual social inclinations of teenage girls—whether by choice or necessity, it was clear she didn’t trust anyone easily. It intrigued him. Most students, even those who prided themselves on independence, eventually gave in to the draw of companionship. Yet Aliena remained aloof, even in the face of attention.

He had his followers watching her from a distance now, gathering small details. She was cautious, intelligent, and there was a strength in her that Tom found… curious. A strength that reminded him, perhaps faintly, of himself. But something about her was still a mystery, an element he had yet to grasp.

“She’s worth keeping an eye on,” Tom said finally, his voice smooth and deliberate. He could see the subtle nods from the others, but his attention had already shifted inward. “But from a distance. For now.”

He didn’t need to micromanage Aliena. Not yet. She would reveal her true self in time, and when she did, he would be ready to act. Whether she would become a valuable asset—or something else entirely—was still to be determined.

“It’s not anything to linger on, surely,” Abraxas chimed in. “I mean, that boy is a fool.”

“Perhaps if someone more… worthwhile courted her then she would reveal her true nature.” Justus suggested.

”True nature?” Marius Avery inquired, raising a skeptical brow.

“Oh come on, don’t you boys want to see a wicked madwoman like that in love? Girls are so easy. Even the most cold-hearted ones turn into hysterical fools with the right amount of pressure,” Rosier responded.

The boys laughed at this. Their attempts to get closer to Aliena at the beginning of the school year were entirely unsuccessful. Each of them felt a slight hint of failure. After the event in the bathroom, Tom had called off his order for them to try and get closer to her. Some of them had protested— claiming they could surely be the one to seduce her. Justus and Alphard namely were the most vocal about that.

”If she was so easy then she’d already be wrapped around your finger.” Abraxas countered firmly. “I know her best out of anyone here. She’s not the sort to… give into persuasion.”

”And have you tried to persuade her?” Lestrange asked.

”No! She’s a right bitch and a fool. It would be beneath me.” Abraxas countered passionately.

”She’s just a bit hard to crack is all,” Dorian reasoned. It was rare for him to pipe up like that during meetings. “She was friendly enough to me.” He added.

“Yes, until she wasn’t.” Wulfric countered.

Dorian smiled as if that didn’t bother him at all. He'd only had one conversation with her in the library, but something about that conversation must have put her off because since then she'd been avoiding them all like the plague.

”Somehow she knows about us.” Tom said, and everyone quieted. His gaze flickered to Abraxas, whose shock was too indicative that he had no idea. “Or at least, she knows we’re dangerous.” They all preened at that, nodding and murmuring in delighted agreement.

Tom continued. “That means she is no fool, and she is not an ordinary person. You will continue to keep an eye on her from a distance, as I said. If any one of us is able to break through, it won’t be any of you.” The implication hung in the air. It would be Tom himself. They all nodded and agreed.

Tom would get to the bottom of her himself.

But for now, Tom would wait. And watch.

The night before Elizabeth’s first ever Hogsmeade trip was a chaotic event. The girls spent the entire time after dinner cooped up in their dorm, floating around fabrics, flipping through magazines, and trying on different combinations of makeup.

Elizabeth participated here and there, voicing her opinions. She surprised herself when Mrs. Malfoy’s knowledge of fashion and current trends leaked into her advice. The girls took it in with great appreciation, and each of them had carefully accumulated the “perfect outfit” for the day.

It seemed they took great pleasure in the small things. Admittedly, Elizabeth could agree. It was fun, going back and forth and trying on one another’s clothes. Half of the room was wearing something that belonged to Elizabeth.

“Your wardrobe is just so incredible!” Saoirse claimed excitedly. “Everything is of the latest fashion, and so expensive!”

”We’re so lucky you were sorted into Gryffindor,” Natasha said with a dreamy sigh as she stroked a pink chiffon neck scarf.

“I’ll say! Those nasty Slytherin whores-,” Terra started viciously, and her vulgarity sparked a cascade of laughter throughout the room. The savagery of their gossip had increased ever since that incident in the bathrooms. “-always think they’re better than us with their fancy robes and stuff.”

”I can’t wait to see their faces when they see us.” Gaia said, looking in the mirror as she held up her outfit.

”Oh I do hope we run into Mallow!” Berniece exclaimed deviously.

Elizabeth hissed and shoved her shoulder. ”Don’t be mean,” She scolded.

”Oh, come onnn. Maybe you’ll fall in looove after seeing him.” Berniece chided.

Elizabeth couldn’t help her own scoff. ”Unlikely.” Elizabeth commented.

”Why, cause he’s ugly?” Terra asked. Elizabeth threw a pillow at her.

”He’s not… that ugly!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

”Right, and I’m Minister for Magic.” Berniece said sarcastically.

”He’s kind of cute!” Elizabeth tried. The girls laughed.

”He is a little cute,” Natasha defended too.

Elizabeth sent her an approving smile. ”See, Natasha agrees with me.”

”Natasha thinks everyone is beautiful in their own way. That doesn’t mean everybody actually is.”

“You all just have bad taste.” Elizabeth grumbled, but deep down she knew that she hadn’t really found Marrow attractive. Maybe if she did, she would have been more inclined to say yes. Or remember his name. She wondered if that made her a bad person. The girls were too busy singing “Aliena and Mallow sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” to care.

The next morning, Elizabeth woke early as she ever did. In the early mornings she normally spent her time walking outside until the sun rose. This morning was no different.

The cold was really getting to her. It was nothing like her sunny childhood spent swimming in the ocean or playing in the woods. It was brutal and ruthless, and it hadn’t even begun to snow yet. While she'd gotten proficient at warming charms, when they inevitably wore off it came back to her again like a slap to the face. But sometimes, she just let them wear off. She let the cold eat into her. Bite and nip at her face and hands and neck. The unpleasantness, the pain-- there was something strangely romantic and comforting in it's own way.

Elizabeth sat by the lakeside for a while before making her way back up. When she reached the room, the girls were slowly waking up in their pin curls, excited and giddy for the day to come. Elizabeth showered, and let Gaia do her hair. It swung behind her in long princess curls down her back.

Despite Elizabeth’s suspicions that Gaia harboured feelings for Edward, and that Edward harbored some sort of attraction for herself, she was pleasantly happy to find Gaia treated her no different. Perhaps she was trying to conceal her feelings. Or perhaps she was just a loyal friend.

Despite this, while alone in the bathroom, Elizabeth made a leap. ”I don’t like Edward.”

Gaia scoffed in confusion. “What? Did he do something to you?”

”No, I mean I don’t like him. Romantically.”

Gaia was slow to respond. ”Oh,” she said, but sounded strangely pleased. “Why not? He’s very handsome.”

”I know. I just don’t.”

”And… why are you telling me?” Gaia asked, concealing whatever she was thinking with the lightness in her tone.

”Because you like him.” Elizabeth responded simply.

”It was that obvious, huh?” Gaia said in defeat, not even protesting at all.

It was easier to have this conversation when neither of them were looking each other in the face. ”No. You’re good at hiding it.”

Gaia hummed. “Does he know?”

”I have no idea. But I wanted to tell you that… If you really did like him, I would never get in the way.”

Gaia was quiet again for a bit and then spoke. “Thank you.”

Elizabeth smiled. She didn’t need to say anything.

And that was that.

The rest of the morning passed by well. Gaia was in high spirits, and made it everybody else’s problem by bouncing around the room and chattering loudly as they all got ready.

There was a phonograph in their room brought by Natasha from home, and it softly played popular muggle songs from the time. Frank Sinatra and Glenn Miller and Bing Crosby.

Elizabeth sang along softly.

”You’re not wearing any makeup?” Saoirse asked in surprise when Elizabeth sat on her bed. She had finished getting dressed before anybody else in her simple yet elegant black and white robes.

”Oh, I’m not allowed.”

”Not allowed? By whom?!” Berniece demanded.

”By my aunt. Not until I debut.”

“Debut! How tantalizing!”

”Noble families are truly something else.”

Elizabeth sighed and nodded.

”Well your aunt isn’t here.” Saoirse followed.

”Oh, well… I-,” Elizabeth started, just realizing that she had a point.

”Oh please let me do you up! Please please pleeease.” Saoirse begged.

Elizabeth tried to protest, but she was firmly sat in a vanity chair and let the girls swarm around her in excited delight. By the end of it, Elizabeth took a look of their work in the mirror. She had demanded they do something minimal, and simple. Despite their protests, they’d listened to her. They’d only curled her eyelashes and put on mascara, some rouge on her cheeks, and a natural slightly darker shade of lipstick.

She looked beautiful. Elizabeth was yet again reminded that the girl who she looked at in the mirror wasn’t her. And yet… And yet, she was beginning to realize that it felt like her. The time passing was taking Elizabeth as it’s victim. The longer she spent in this body, the more she was growing comfortable with her reflection. It was a greedy, horrible feeling. But Aliena was so pretty, she couldn’t even bring herself to be upset. She grinned and inspected herself closer.

”You love it!” Saoirse exclaimed in victory. Elizabeth blushed and laughed. They all showered her in ridiculous praise that she had poorly accepted. She tried to compliment each of them in return, but they were having none of it.

”You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life. I can’t wait to see the look on Mallow’s face!” Berniece exclaimed.

They all laughed and gave their agreements.

As they reached the courtyard, the boys were already waiting for them near the fountain. Edward, Harvey, Conor, Declan, Anthony, and Michael were clustered together, laughing over some joke the girls had missed. Edward spotted them first, his tall frame standing out as he waved them over with a grin.

“About time!” Edward called out. “We thought you lot had gotten lost.”

Gaia smiled brightly as they approached, though Elizabeth caught the way her eyes lingered on Edward a little too long. It was subtle, but now that she knew about Gaia’s crush, it was easier to see the shift in her demeanor. Still, Gaia managed to keep her cool, bouncing on her heels as they drew closer.

“We had to make sure we looked perfect,” Terra shot back, her voice playful as she tugged her hat down over her pixie-cut hair.

Harvey grinned as he stepped forward to wrap an arm around Berniece’s shoulders, pulling her close. “You always look perfect, don’t you?”

Berniece rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless, leaning into him. “Don’t be so full of it, Harvey.”

Conor, the shorter of the Sullivan twins, flashed a bright grin at Saoirse. “Ready for a day of chaos, Hawks?”

Saoirse laughed, her eyes lighting up. “I’m always ready.”

As the group gathered, Elizabeth felt Michael sidle up beside her, his ginger hair catching the sunlight. He was grinning as usual, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You look nice,” Michael said, casually but with a sincerity that Elizabeth found surprising.

“Thanks,” she replied, tugging at the edge of her scarf. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Michael puffed his chest out dramatically and held out his arm. “Why, thank you, m’lady.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes but smiled and took it, enjoying the lighthearted exchange. It felt natural, easier than it had in the beginning, and she could feel herself relaxing more with every passing day in this new life.

“Well,” Edward said, clapping his hands together, “shall we get moving before the crowds take all the good spots at the Three Broomsticks?”

With that, the group began their walk toward Hogsmeade, their laughter and conversation filling the crisp morning air. The path wound down from the castle in a long trail of students. As they crossed the grounds, the excitement of the day ahead began to take hold. Hogsmeade lay just beyond the horizon, and the promise of butterbeer, sweets, and freedom from the castle’s routine was tantalizing.

As they walked, Elizabeth found herself falling into step with Gaia, who nudged her playfully. “Told you Edward’s handsome,” she said under her breath, her tone light but teasing.

Elizabeth smirked. “I never said he wasn’t.”

Gaia grinned, and for a moment, there was a sense of camaraderie between them. Elizabeth felt a warmth in her chest—something akin to belonging. It was strange, but it was there, and she wasn’t about to push it away.

Ahead of them the village finally came into view, nestled against the hills. With it, the promise of a day unlike any other Elizabeth had experienced before.

Edward was leading the conversation, his enthusiasm evident. “So, what’s everyone’s first stop? I’m thinking of hitting Zonko’s. They’re bound to have something fun.”

“Zonko’s is a must,” Conor agreed, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Declan, walking beside him, nodded absently. “I’m just hoping to find some new books at Scrivenshaft’s. I could use something to get me through the winter.”

Berniece nudged Harvey playfully. “And what about you, Captain? Anything in particular you’re after?”

Harvey shrugged, his red hair catching the light. “Not really. I’m just here for the mission. And maybe some butterbeer.”

“Some?” Berniece snorted. He smiled at her wryly. He and Berniece fell into their own step and conversation. She held his arm and he leaned down slightly toward her, as if to get as close as possible. Elizabeth smiled to herself at them.

Elizabeth, walking beside Saoirse now, caught the tail end of the conversation and decided to chime in. “It’s a bit of a tradition, isn’t it?”

Saoirse nodded enthusiastically. “And we can’t forget about Honeydukes. I’m craving some chocolate frogs.”

Michael, who had been quiet for a moment, leaned closer to Elizabeth. “What about you? Any special plans for today?”

Elizabeth thought for a moment. “I’m not sure yet. I thought I might just follow along and see where the day takes me. Maybe pick up a few things for myself.”

Michael grinned. “Sounds like a plan. You should definitely check out Honeydukes. They’ve got some brilliant stuff this year.”

As they continued walking, Gaia’s gaze occasionally drifted to Edward, who was animatedly discussing the latest Quidditch match with Harvey. Elizabeth could see the fondness in Gaia’s eyes, and it made her wonder if Edward had any idea of the effect he had on her friend. Once all the boys had gathered into a clump ahead and the girls fell back, Berniece gave Gaia a playful nudge.

“Alright, spill. What’s your plan for today? Just follow Edward around?”

So Elizabeth wasn’t the only one who knew.

Gaia rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “It’s not like that. I just... enjoy spending time with everyone. And yes, that includes Edward.”

Terra laughed, her voice ringing out above the others. “Come on, Gaia. Now that we all know you're smitten, it's okay to admit it.”

So Gaia must have managed to tell each of the girls that Elizabeth knew. When that had happened, Elizabeth had no idea. 

Gaia shot Terra a mock glare. “Alright, alright. But it’s not like I’m planning anything.”

“Just don’t let him catch you staring too much,” Terra teased. “Or he might think you’re a bit too interested.”

Elizabeth, catching Gaia’s slightly embarrassed smile, decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. “So, does anyone know if there’s anything special happening in Hogsmeade today? Any events or new shops opening?”

Saoirse shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything specific. But there’s always something going on. That’s part of the fun.”

The group chatted amicably as they approached the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The village was bustling with activity, students from all houses mingling and enjoying the freedom of the weekend. The sight of the shops and the smell of fresh pastries and candies from Honeydukes filled the air.

The cobblestone streets were lined with colorful storefronts, and the warmth from the shops spilled out into the cold air, inviting them in.

“Well,” Edward said, turning to the group with a wide grin, “let’s make the most of today. First stop, Zonko’s?”

Everyone agreed, and the group set off, their laughter and conversation echoing through the streets of Hogsmeade.

Zonko’s was brilliant. Brightly colored boxes and jars were stacked haphazardly, each one labeled with whimsical names like “Fanged Frenzy,” “Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” and “Howler's Delight.” There were sections dedicated to different types of pranks: from exploding bonbons and trick wands to mischievous potions and enchanted items that could make a person’s hat float off their head.

Student’s ran around, and random spouts of small explosions and hollars randomly sounded from whatever results students were finding from the products. The group dispersed within, and Elizabeth found herself following Gaia and Natasha as they made their way to a particularly pink corner. It was full of strange potions. Love chocolates, and biased tarot cards, and crystals that increased one’s chances of seducing another. Natasha claimed they were nonsense, and Gaia protested. The girls gossiped and marveled and said they wanted to buy them but did not.

Eventually they made their way out and to Honeydukes. Elizabeth wanted to split off with Declan and Anthony to Scrivenshaft’s, but felt she would be doing a disservice to herself if she never experienced Honeydukes.

By the end, even Elizabeth couldn’t resist buying some sugar quills and chocolate frogs.

Edward had gone ahead with Berniece and Harvey and managed to snag a large circular booth seat at the Three Broomsticks. It was bustling with students, and even some professors sat at the bar, speaking to the barkeep. Once everybody was seated, Edward ordered a round of firewhiskey shots and butterbeer for everyone. Elizabeth was shocked to find they were actually served the drinks, and realized the laws must be different in this age because they were only sixteen and allowed to drink. The waitress didn't even ask for any identification, which was good because Elizabeth certainly didn't have any. 

Halfway through the jovial conversation, Declan and Anthony finally joined them. Each of them carried parcels which surely contained something studious. They didn’t look pleased.

“Those insufferable twats took up half the shop.” Anthony commented glumly.

”Our favorite insufferable twats, I hope?” Gaia said with a smirk and setting her chin on her hands.

“You need a lobotomy.” Declan declared, taking his firewhiskey shot with a grimace and hiss.

”Which ones? Was Tom there?” Saoirse asked excitedly.

”You all need lobotomies,” Anthony added, taking his shot in turn. At that moment another round arrived to their table, with a mix of cheers and grimaces.

"What's a lobotomy?" Harvey asked, which made sense because he was a pureblood. Those who knew what it was only laughed as a couple of the boys described the procedure in grotesque detail, and the purebloods and halfbloods who were previously in the dark lamented the horrors of muggle healing. 

They clearly weren’t kidding about their intent to get drunk. Elizabeth thought she would be able to handle it, but was one butterbeer and shot down and she already started feeling the fuzziness in her stomach that indicated she was beginning to get tipsy. The butterbeer didn't taste anything like the sweetness she'd imagined. No, it was far more like a regular beer, just slightly more pleasant to taste yet it still had that yeasty taste that bloated Elizabeth's stomach. 

“Oh great,” Harvey murmured, “They’ve followed you.”

They entire table turned without an ounce of shame to see Tom Riddle, Mulciber, Lestrange, Malfoy, and Black entire the pub. Elizabeth’s eyes caught on Tom’s, who seemed to zero in on her immediately. Elizabeth frowned and quickly turned back to the table.

“I need this,” She said and took one of the shots and downed it quickly. The table whooped and hollered. Elizabeth used her butterbeer to chase down the horrific burning in her throat. And when she started, she couldn’t stop. They started banging on the table obnoxiously, cheering for her to finish it. She did, and pounded the empty beer mug back on the table.

A hand hooked around her bicep and slightly lifted her roughly. Elizabeth looked up incredulously.

It was Abraxas.

“What are you doing?” He demanded lowly.

”Ooooo,” the table whined as if Elizabeth had been caught by a teacher doing something naughty, watching with both smiles and glares at the scene.

”Enjoying the day. You could learn something from me, dear cousin,” Elizabeth remarked, pulling her arm from his grasp and turning to her friends with a soft, peachy smile. It felt warm and delicious. She wanted more butterbeer.

“You’re embarrassing our name,” He bit into her ear, trying not to let anyone hear.

Elizabeth laughed loudly. Her eyes slid, almost automatically, to the a table facing them. Tom and his Slytherin army occupied it now. Tom himself lounged longly, his legs spread and sipping on some amber liquid in a glass as he watched. It distinctly reminded her of the first time they’d met in the Malfoy’s second library.

Abraxas still hovered at Elizabeth’s ear.

”The only name I embarrass is my own. Why don’t you embarrass yours’ somewhere else?” She asked. She said it loudly and to the entire table, who laughed, and chided her with affirmations of agreement.

“You’re company is a bad influence.” He commented. He said it louder now, to allow to entire table to hear instead of attempting to whisper. The Gryffindor’s boo’d and gave their answer by banging their glasses on the table and taking long swigs from their drinks.

Elizabeth again caught Tom’s scrutinous gaze as Abraxas finally abandoned ship and made his way toward them. Elizabeth raised a new glass of Butterbeer (which had miraculously appeared before her), and shouted quite unceremoniously, “To the men who may try!” she briefly paused and turned back to her own table, “And the men who will succeed!” The entire table cheered loudly and clinked their drinks together before taking a long sip.

As they continued to drink, Elizabeth felt the burning gazes of the boys sitting near her. The evening furthered and more of the Slytherins arrived. The Knights of Walpurgis were endless and horrific, and even some girls had joined their table. Elizabeth distinctly ignored them and continued a horrible tirade of loud, boisterous conversation she had never let herself participate in.

“Aliena!” Edward shouted sometime during the conversation, “You’re much more fun when you’ve opened up!” It was a light, enthusiastic compliment.

”A few drinks and it seems my true self shows,” She responded, smiling at him as she met his eyes. He really was handsome. She could understand Gaia’s interest in him. Those blue eyes were lethal. Of course, not to her. She had greater plans in mind. Like getting home, and not getting caught in the thralls of crushes or love along the way.

“And cheeks so red!” Gaia followed swiftly, quick to make herself more known. “It’s very cute.” She chided. Elizabeth giggled, more overtly than she ever would have allowed if she were sober. Deep down Elizabeth could suppose it would have been perhaps a juvenile attempt to get between whatever attraction Edward harbored for Elizabeth.

It was clearly not successful, at his next comment. “Yes, very cute.” He was clearly more drunk than Elizabeth thought. In fact, as she sat in her chair she realized that she herself was far more drunk than she would have thought. Elizabeth glanced to Michael, who was swaying in his seat. To Harvey, who was holding Berniece tightly and whispering in her ear messily. Still, they overall concealed it well. The feeling down in her stomach was still there, and it sent Elizabeth's heart soaring. This drunkenness was their intent, but it was another thing to behold.

Elizabeth made the mistake of glancing over at the Slytherin’s gathering in the nearby booth.

Tom’s dark brown eyes met hers in a shadowed gaze. Elizabeth quickly looked away, but the weight of it hung on her shoulders.

She swiftly stood, two hands on the table. ”Well, I think I should make my way to…,” she hesitated, trying to remember the name of a shop other than the ones she visited. She wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

”The Shrieking Shack.” They all looked up at her in drunk confusion and wonder. It broke into boisterous laughter.

”The Shrieking Shack?!”

”I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

”You do know you’re in Hogsmeade, don’t you?!”

Elizabeth flushed in embarrassment. Of course the Shrieking Shack wasn’t here. It was built for Remus Lupin, who certainly wouldn’t arrive for another couple of decades. ”Right-,” Elizabeth tried. “Well, any way to get out of more Firewhiskey shots. It’d be nice to explore.” She said, picking herself up from the chair and making way to leave the pub.

”Wait-!” a voice called behind her. She had bumped into a pub stool when a pair of arms came around her and held her up graciously. Elizabeth looked up to find none other than Edward’s viciously stunning blue eyes staring down at her. His cheeks were pink and his smile easy. Elizabeth glanced back. Gaia was standing now too, watching with something hidden in her eyes.

”Gaia! There you are! Come with me, show me around,” She demanded, grabbing Gaia’s arm and pulling her with her. Edward still followed her, on Elizabeth’s other side.

”Well, I can,” he remarked lowly.

Elizabeth held Gaia’s arm tighter, pulling the girl flush against her body.

”We both can!” Gaia responded swiftly. Elizabeth sent her a sideways sly look. Gaia was taken aback, and looked away, blushing deeply. When Elizabeth laughed loudly it could have been easily mistaken for drunken joy as they entered the cold air into the streets.

”Oh it’s so nice!” Elizabeth exclaimed, ripping herself from both their arms to run forward and take in the cold air. It somehow felt so much nicer now. Refreshing and beautiful.

Elizabeth twirled, around a lamppost, her other arm out. She realized she had grown much more graceful after the endless dance lessons from the Malfoy’s. She finally centered herself to look at Edward and Gaia. They both watched her with similar expressions that were somehow entirely different.

”But you hate the cold!” Gaia exclaimed, laughing. Edward was standing, mouth open and starstruck without any words to string together.

“You’re right!” Elizabeth exclaimed delightfully, rushing forward and grabbing Gaia around the shoulders in a hug and bringing her down a bit. She was going to noogie her head, but decided against it with Gaia’s well-thought-out hairstyle and instead let her go at the sound of both of their giggling.

“Come!” she demanded, grabbing Gaia’s hand to tug her along the path.

Edward scowled behind them but followed closely. If Gaia wasn’t here, she’d be grabbing my hand, he thought.

They reached the main street and Elizabeth couldn’t decide which store to go into. Gaia was making her argument about going back into Zonko’s, and Edward was fervently agreeing. They both made their intense claims, and Elizabeth felt a devious thought overtake her. Before she could second-guess, she carried out the plan.

”Oh perfect! You two go to Zonko’s and I’ll stop at Scrivenshaft’s really quickly,” she said. It was met with a symphony of protest, but Elizabeth was having none of it, and she lightly pushed the two of them together and forward. “No, no! Meet right here in thirty minutes!” She exclaimed.

The pair walked away, both glancing behind them as Elizabeth waved enthusiastically. When Edward finally looked forward, Gaia still looking back, Elizabeth shot Gaia a devious wink. Gaia giggled, and winked back, holding onto Edward’s arm and turning up to him to say something. Elizabeth smiled, feeling the cold a bit more suddenly. She wrapped her arms around herself and looking around at the titles of the shops.

“Did your dear friends leave you so soon?”

The voice was all too telling. Deep and smooth and cold and impossible.

Elizabeth turned, to find Tom standing behind her with a small cold smile. He was pale and dark, and his robes were pitch black and handsome. She wished he was hideously ugly. She wished he was the bald, pale, red-eyed creature he was in fiction.

But he was the same incredibly charming and impossibly beautiful boy she’d known since she’d met him. She glanced around him, and to her relief didn’t find any of his lackies. ”Don’t be so disappointed. I’m here alone," he said.

She was both disappointed and more afraid. It was difficult in some ways for him to be with his friends, and also even more difficult to be with him alone. In fact, any setting involving Tom Riddle was quite difficult. A girl approached him, glancing at Elizabeth only once, before turning to Tom. “Hello, Tom!” She said cheerfully. Elizabeth was so happy to let this be her excuse to escape, but Tom grabbed her by the arm and pulled her closer against him so she couldn't flee.

“Oh, Florence! This is my friend Aliena.” he commented. Florence looked over Elizabeth with a scornful gaze, and then promptly ignored her. ”It’s lovely to see you. Would you like to come with me to-?” she started, leaning toward him in her immaculate red robes. Elizabeth didn't know what house Florence was in, but it wasn't Gryffindor, and she didn't recognize her to be any of the Slytherin girls who had bullied her.

It was only possible for Tom alone to cut anybody off so graciously. ”I believe I was showing my dear friend’s cousin around. I apologize, Miss Frey.”

Florence Frey didn’t even seem to take it as a rejection. ”Of course, Tom! Ever the gentleman, you are.”

Tom smiled primly at her and nodded, dragging Elizabeth away with his arm hooked in her’s. Elizabeth snorted when they were out of ear shot, and Tom looked down at her incredulously.

“Ever the gentleman,” Elizabeth mocked. She laughed. “Do you actually believe yourself a gentleman?”

“Am I not?” He responded, sounding offended. Elizabeth scoffed. He bristled, but kept his grip on her firm.

”You’re certainly something.” Elizabeth remarked, suggesting that ‘something’ wasn’t pleasant at all.

“I don’t believe you are one to speak, Miss Greengrass.” He bit out. Ah, he was referring to the bathroom incident. It would have been hard to miss if Elizabeth hadn’t spent the summer with the Malfoys and their endless hidden meanings layered in everything they said.

“Are you afraid of me, Mr. Riddle?” She mocked. Riddle recoiled, finally letting go of her. She shook her arm, realizing that it had started to grow numb with how tightly he was holding onto it. He had lead her to a secluded part of the town, a trail near the edge of the forest and unpopulated by the crowds. Only falling leaves crunching beneath their feet. It was not yet time for snow, but certainly felt cold enough for it.

“Hardly.” he firmly said.

”Mmm.” She hummed, leaning her head back to take in the cold air. It felt so nice, letting her hair back as it gently swayed behind her.

”You’re drunk.” He commented.

”Incredible conclusion. You’ll be a genius yet, Tom Riddle.” She said.

”I already am a genius,” he said loftily. 

Elizabeth laughed once. “Are you?”

”Is that so surprising?” He demanded. He was offended.

Elizabeth laughed again. ”If anybody is a genius, it’s you.” She conceded. He, disturbingly, seemed to gain great pleasure from that.

He leaned forward as they walked side by side onto the forest path, but Elizabeth was too drunk to care for the closeness. Even if it was the Lord Voldemort.

To herself, Elizabeth thought about how he would die. How he would drop to the ground in a lump of bones and flesh in a manner that was utterly human. How a seventeen year old boy who was not yet born would be his downfall. She found great pleasure in this thought.

They stopped walking and he took a step closer to her. ”Tell me, Aliena,” He said her name like a title. Like the difference between gods and God. There was a definite distinction that hung in the air. “Are you afraid of me?” He finally asked.

Elizabeth looked him in the eye. She took in his handsome face. She even glanced down at his pristine shiny shoes and well-starched robes, and then back up to that despicable face again. She knew what she wanted to say, but while she was indeed drunk she still retained her mind. She knew the part she played. The vapid young girl who fell into the crowd with all the rest. The girl who was just as infatuated with him as the rest.

”Should I be?” She asked, leaning forward slightly, mimicking his posture. She was attempting to gauge him. Their breaths mingled. She expected him to lean away. He didn’t. His eyes sharply took in her expression, her face, her eyes.

”Come with me to Hogsmeade.” He stated. If he leaned forward any more their lips may touch.

Elizabeth turned her face, putting her hands behind her back and walking forward down this path he’d lead her down. He followed her swiftly, in sync and by her side.

“We’re already here.” She said lightly.

”I meant as a date.” That took her off guard, and she looked over at him in shock. A date?  When she slipped on a mossy cobblestone, she realized she was in fact too drunk to be in Tom’s presence. Tom caught her. His arm wrapped around her waist and the other came to hold her forearm. His hand drifted down and slipped into her palm. She’d always thought he would feel cold to the touch, from how he looked. But he was was distinctly warm. She took her hand back in shock and steadied herself quickly, brushing herself off when he finally let her go.

Even while playing the part of innocent young girl she couldn’t possibly agree to such an invitation, and him asking this question certainly threw off her plans. ”No.” She said firmly. Tom’s jaw clenched, but she was strictly looking anywhere but at his face.

“Why?” He asked.

Elizabeth walked forward again, deftly looking down at her path now. “Because I have a date.”

It came out before she could think.

“Who?!” Tom demanded. Elizabeth’s cheeks blazed red. He leaned forward as they walked to gauge her expression.

“You don’t have a date.” he concluded.

”I don’t want one!” Elizabeth exclaimed. She tried to walk faster, but this back path was difficult and was starting to stray deeper into the forest and he was leading the way in front of her. 

”I thought you weren’t afraid of me.” He remarked. She had to step down now over a great stone. Before she could stop him, Tom’s hand’s came to her waist and swiftly brought her down to the bottom. His hands didn’t linger, and he was utterly respectful. Fuckhead, she thought.

“I don’t have to be unafraid of someone to not want to go on a date with them.”

The woods were closing in around them now. And that idea hadn’t even crossed Tom’s mind. If she was not afraid of him, then there was no other conceivable reason for her to reject him.

Elizabeth wanted to turn and bolt back. But… But she had her wand. And even though she knew Tom was powerful… she knew she was powerful too. Perhaps in a way he couldn’t comprehend. So she continued.

“Oh, like that Mallow boy?” He asked viciously. He sounded angry now.

“How do you know about that?!” She demanded.

“It was hardly private. Students talk, you know?” He said quickly. It was true, which she hated.

”He was nice.” she remarked, suggesting that Tom wasn’t.

”Oh, and so you’ll take him then?” he asked, saying ‘him’ like it was a vulgar disgusting word.

“Maybe.” Elizabeth countered. The crunches under their feet were louder now amongst the lonesome forest.

”Don’t act coy.” Tom said, disgusted.

“You don’t even want to take me to Hogsmeade!” Elizabeth said confidently.

“And why would you think that?” How did she know that?, was the real question he wanted to ask.

”I don’t know—,” Elizabeth said, feeling rather stupid for having to explain herself. She never thought she’d have to explain to the Dark Lord why he would never be interested in going on a date. “B-Because you don’t like women!”

That exclamation hung embarrassingly in the air. And Tom laughed. Hearty and full and sounding true. Elizabeth chanced a glance over. His face was surprisingly youthful. He was always handsome- dreadfully so- but now he was something else entirely. Paralyzing.

“You think I like men?” he asked, still laughing as he brushed away a tear from his eye. Elizabeth looked away quickly, glaring at the browning bushes as if they were the culprit of the turn in her stomach.

“Well— you certainly don’t entertain anybody that is very clearly interested in you.”

“Neither do you.” Tom remarked.

”Just because I wasn’t interested in Marrow—,”

”Don’t think I missed the way you shoved off Edward Spencer with your friend.”

Elizabeth hesitated. ”Gaia likes Edward. I was-,”

”You were what? Being a good friend?” he asked, standing in front of her path now. He was a few steps lower than her now from the terrain, so their faces met on equal ground. ”You barely know them. If you liked him, you would have him.” He said it like it was a fact.

”That’s not true!”

”Is it not? If you were madly in love with Edward Spencer and he declared his love for you, would you reject him solely based on a friend you hardly know? For another’s one-sided crush that would fruition into nothing?”

“Maybe!”

”Maybe!” Tom declared back with a 'hah!'. “You’re a fool.”

Good, she thought. I am a fool.

And yet, she was drunk. ”I’ve never been madly in love, so I would not know what I would do.” She stated.

But Tom know better. He remembered what she said on the train, even if she did not.

Not in love?  She had claimed otherwise after declaring him ugly.

“And if you were? Just picture it, now—,” he stated, holding his palms forward as if trying to convince her. “You’re in love with him and he is in love with you. Your friend is begging you not to marry him. What would you do?”

Elizabeth hesitated, looking back and forth between Tom’s pale palms. They were large, unblemished, and his fingers were long and slender and beautiful.

She finally looked up into his dark eyes. Those black holes. Sucking everything in, into nothing at all.

”I would be selfish.” She stated. He pulled his hands back with a smirk, as if he’d won. She quickly added, “And I would let him go.”

Tom paused. He wouldn’t understand that. He wouldn’t understand what it would mean to let someone you loved go. How it was both selfless and selfish at the same time. A pang hit her heart even as she said it. It wasn’t true, she knew. She wasn’t letting her family go. She was going to try everything she could to get them back, to return to them. ”That is not selfishness.” He spat angrily.

”It is. To let someone you love go— is it not both the most selfless and selfish thing one could ever do?”

“Stupid-,” Tom started.

“You clearly do not know what love is.” Elizabeth stated firmly. They were still looking at one another in the eye. Tom stood, watching her with a cautious gaze. For a moment, Elizabeth could swear that the falling leaves had even frozen in place. 

“So you refuse me on what grounds?” He finally demanded. Elizabeth couldn’t tear her eyes away from his if she tried.

”I just said what grounds.” She responded.

Still, he did not understand. “What?”

”I want to fall in love, Tom.” Elizabeth said, her eyes softening. She turned her head finally, watching as the leaves around them all fell in different beautiful shades. As the cold air blew through her mercilessly. A beam of sunlight peeking through the trees.

She finally turned back to him. “You will be a great man, I am sure. But I do not wish to waste my own time, nor yours.” She stepped past him and kept walking. Tom stood frozen to the spot, staring at the place she had just left.

"Selfishness?" He said to himself. She was gone now, the sound of her feet crunching through the forest floor gone. The word felt foreign and distasteful to him. He had always believed that to sacrifice something, someone, for a higher purpose was noble, but love… love was a weakness. An indulgence he had always despised. Her claim that letting someone go was both selfish and selfless grated against everything he believed. Yet, there was something unnervingly resolute about her response.

She wanted to fall in love?

The idea was almost laughable to Tom. Love was a form of vulnerability, and vulnerability was something he had trained himself to avoid, to exploit in others but never show himself. He was accustomed to manipulation, understanding the desires and weaknesses of those around him. But this—this confounding, irrational emotion that she seemed to value so deeply—was beyond his grasp.

Tom’s fury, tightly coiled beneath the surface, simmered. How could she not see? He could offer her power, knowledge, control—everything he valued most in the world. He could make her great, a force to be reckoned with, if only she could let go of these foolish ideas. Yet here she was, walking away as though his offer meant nothing.

She does not understand my offer, he concluded.

His chest tightened as he stared after her, the frustration mingling with something else—something unfamiliar. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to regain control of his spiraling thoughts.

"She’s wrong," he whispered to himself, but the gnawing feeling of uncertainty lingered. He ran after her.

Elizabeth was confident that she had successfully avoided something great. Her drunkenness seemed to return graciously. A soft blanket of warmth returning in a haze. She was smiling happily, swinging her arms, without a care to where this path led. Surely it would lead her back home.

The voice behind her stopped her in her tracks.

”And if I fell in love with you?” His voice carried in the quiet forest.

The silence seemed to stretch impossibly long after the words left his mouth, as though even the wind had paused to listen. He hadn’t planned on saying it—hadn’t even thought it—but once spoken, the weight of his question hung heavily between them.

Elizabeth turned, utterly surprised. Even more surprising, was him standing there, a blank expression and slightly unkempt hair and robes from chasing after her.

Her drunkenness had made her bold, carefree. She swayed slightly as she regarded him, and Tom hated how disheveled he must have looked in that moment— out of control, and utterly vulnerable. Vulnerable. 

“If that day could ever come,” she said, knowing that it couldn’t possibly happen. Her tone hinted the irony of it. As if she thought he could never love. As if she knew it, “Then we will have this conversation again.”

He took a slow step forward with a jaw clenched, his eyes still fixed on her. “Do you really think I am incapable of love?” he asked, his voice low and sharp-- a challenge.

Elizabeth stepped back, and found her back pressed against the bark of a tree, her hands flush against it’s cold surface.

“I don’t know. I hardly know you at all.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, but didn’t press forward. ”You seem to know more than you let on.” He stated. It was a threat and accusation. It was vicious and beyond any tone she’d heard from him. She glanced down at his hand, which had his wand in it now. She was in extremely dangerous ground.

And yet she was not afraid. She had the upper hand, she reminded herself. She leaned away from the tree, raising her chin high and looking him in the eye. ”You know no more than I. But there is a difference between us,” Elizabeth hesitated. She could see him holding onto her words. ”I believe I will find that foolish thing you call love. And you don’t seem to think that at all.”

“You think I am not capable of finding someone to love me?” He demanded, stepping forward.

”I think you should probably start with someone who actually likes you.” She replied, looking him up and down, and then turning on her heel and going down a path she did not know.

As Elizabeth disappeared again into the distance, Tom exhaled slowly. He hadn’t lost control in front of her, but he had come dangerously close. Too close. Her presence, her taunts, her refusal—everything about her was a distraction he didn’t need.

His hand clenched around his wand. She knew more about him than he would have allowed anybody to know. And how she did was a frustrating mystery. He would erase her memories. He would ruin her, twist her mind, just for those inferences that were too close to the truth for his comfort.

Tom's gaze hardened as he made a silent vow. Aliena might think she had the upper hand now. But she was wrong. He would make sure of that. She had crossed a line unknowingly, and he would not let her go unchallenged.

After minutes of watching her figure disappear down the path he turned and struck the nearest tree with a spell. It split down the center diagonally and fell to the ground loudly. He continued, striking fiercely all around him. In the end, he stood in a halo of fallen trees and shrubbery. A blank opening of dead leaves and debris.

Tom breathed heavily, ran a hand over his hair to smooth it back, and sucked in a breath.

Girls were normally never this difficult. But she was just another conquest. It was only a matter of time before she was his. And when she was, he would cast her aside like all the rest.

_

Chapter Text

Elizabeth had only gotten scolded by Gaia and Edward slightly.

Elizabeth refrained from telling them why exactly she was late to meet up with them again, and instead stuck to a half-truth that she'd gotten lost on one of the forest paths. Gaia and Edward graciously told her it was no fault of her own. “Did you want to go back to the Three Broomsticks?” Edward proposed, rubbing his hands together and blowing hot air into his palms.

”Er, actually I think I’ll return to the castle.” Elizabeth said guiltily. Her cheeks were still red and she was still swaying a bit from the alcohol, but the encounter with Tom left her feeling as if she’d gotten a bucket of dirty water dumped on her head. Again.

”Whaat?” Gaia whined, grabbing Elizabeth’s arm. “But we’re not even halfway finished with the day!”

Elizabeth smiled at her guiltily. ”I had too much to drink after all. I think I need to go back and take a long nap,” she explained.

“Oh, bugger.” Gaia complained, and linked their arms together grumpily.

Elizabeth carefully extracted Gaia’s arm. “No! Don’t worry, I can go alone. Stay.”

“No way!” Gaia tried.

”You can’t walk alone.” Edward said at the same time.

Elizabeth took one step back with an easy smile on her face.

“I remember the way back. There are signs everywhere. Go on, have fun! I’ll hear no more of this!” She exclaimed, turning and waving goodbye over her shoulder. Edward and Gaia stood watching Elizabeth’s retreating figure, and then looked at each other. Gaia shrugged and turned to retreat back to the pub. Edward hesitated, his eyes lingering on Elizabeth’s retreating figure with a frown, before shaking his head and following in Gaia’s path.

Elizabeth hugged her cloak tighter around her, trying to block out the lingering sensation of Tom’s presence. His piercing gaze still haunted her thoughts. She had never expected him to say the things he did. There had been something unnerving in his tone. In the breathless disheveled way he'd run after her. Elizabeth struggled to decipher the cryptic intentions behind his actions and words. What could he possibly know about her? She hadn’t given away any hints. She thought she had already evaded whatever suspicious interest he had for her, but that afternoon was clearly indicating otherwise.

He’d asked her out. What was the purpose of that? Did Tom have sex with girls? She knew he could never love, but that didn’t mean hormonal teenage quests of lust were off the table of possibility. Was that where his intentions lay?

She knew he had to suspect her of something, or else he wouldn’t have taken so much interest in her. So what was it that he knew? And how in the world was she going to steer him otherwise? The vapid teenage girl act wasn’t working anymore. She had at try a new strategy.

Just as she neared the castle’s entrance, a sharp gust of wind whipped through the grounds, sending leaves scattering across the courtyard. Elizabeth paused, glancing over her shoulder instinctively. There was no one there, no sign of Tom or anyone else, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

“I’d fuck her so hard she couldn’t tell left from right.” Alphard declared. He often made such declarations about Aliena, but they were growing more vulgar and numerous. This received a deep punch on the shoulder from Abraxas.

Malfoy had been tethering the edge of his anger for the last hour, and this comment was the tipping point.

Alphard and Abraxas took the brawl to the floor of the dorm, throwing punches left and right. Alphard won, as he always did. His proclivity for fighting suggested that he liked the pain, which Tom supposed he probably did in some perverted way. Through any groans of pain, there was always laughter, as if the more painful it got the more he was enjoying it.

Tom was growing more and more annoyed with the subject of Aliena Greengrass. But with the Knights of Walpurgis, it was only becoming more and more frequent.

“You want to fuck her, admit it!” Alphard demanded, pressing Abraxas’ face against the floor with his hand as he pinned down the rest of the boys body. Alphard had this strange madman sort of strength. He was skinny and unathletic, but the craziness in him felt no pain or remorse. It was useful most of the time.

Alphard shoved Abraxas face further into the stone as Wulfric, Rodrick, and Justus cheered on loudly, pouring firewhiskey and absinthe over Abraxas’ spitting face.

“Admit it!” They all cheered.

”Fine! I do!” Abraxas admitted.

Alphard finally let go. When Abraxas stood, dizzy and covered in alcohol and still slightly drunk from Hogsmeades revelries, Alphard roughly cracked Abraxas’ head into the bedpost for good measure. Tom leaned back in his chair as he watched and sipped the glass of the many liquors they’d snuck into the Slytherin common room. He could feel himself slipping into tipsiness. Everybody else in the room was well beyond that, tenfold. Marius was in the bathroom vomiting into the toilet. Even Dorian, who never got drunk easily, was fast asleep on his bed even as the loudness of the room raged on around him.

“You do what?!” Justus demanded, coming around to wrap his arm around Abraxas’ shoulders as he held his throbbing head.

”I want to fuck my cousin!” Abraxas shouted. Everyone laughed and cheered. Tom sneered, and secretly spat in Abraxas’ drink while they all were distracted.

”Well then good on you, lad,” Wulfric said. “She’s got a spiffing figure!” He was far more cheerful and red-faced than normal. It seemed alcohol took his ability to speak poorly of Aliena like he normally attempted to.

“Right! I’ve never seen a prettier slag in my life!” Justus agreed, rubbing Wulfric’s head, who shoved him off immediately.

”She’s not a slag!” Abraxas exclaimed.

”You naughty boy!” Alphard said, “You better marry her with that attitude!”

Abraxas, still dizzy and heavily drunk, stood before them all as he swayed in place holding a well drunken bottle of firewhiskey. “And maybe I will!” he declared, before taking a short sip and choking it down with horrible coughs.

“She’d never marry her cousin.” Tom remarked.

As always, his voice carried, and somewhat silenced a room. While their dorm was still jovial, everyone looked over to listen to anything Tom had to say.

”Not without a bit of persuasion,” Abraxas suggested. It was a deep suggestion. One that told more about what Abraxas’ true thoughts about Aliena were.

Tom briefly considered what those thoughts translated to when Abraxas and Aliena shared a house.

Did he ever look at her wearing her night slip? Did he ever spy on her when he wasn't supposed to?

Tom recalled the night he’d met the girl. Of course Abraxas had. Tom wondered if Abraxas had seen more, and his mood soured quickly.

“You’d never be able to persuade her.” Tom said simply, and downed his drink.

“Why not? Braxy is a handsome fellow,” Alphard said, taking Abraxas’ face in his hand and shaking it. So quickly did the comradery return among these imbeciles.

”I asked her to Hogsmeade, and she declined me.” Tom said simply.

Normally he’d never admit to such an embarrassment. But he felt that now it called for it, with their foolish egos creating idiotic ideas.

The entire room briefly came to a wave of silence, and then to hollars of awe and disgust. They mostly consisted of lamets of Aliena’s foolishness, her ugliness compared to Tom, how she’d certainly end up an old hag begging on the streets for money.

”Why did you even ask?” Justus questioned as their tirade crested.

”To see if she’d say yes,” Tom simply responded. It was answer enough for them. But it wasn’t answer enough for Tom.

Not really. In truth, he’d asked out of an attempt at manipulation. Out of spite. Out of trying to get her close. Out of seeing what mask she wore.

He’d thought she would agree, the mindless girl she was. But she hadn’t. Him asking held many things, and her response had been the first ever rejection of Tom’s life.

Despite all the boy’s attacks against her, Tom could distinctly feel that sting above all else. It took everything in him not to join in on their slander. He knew that if he did, it would sell him out for his true feelings.

“Perhaps she’s a homo!” Justus exclaimed ecstatically.

All the boys lept to agreement. “Any woman who had any taste in men would not decline Tom.” It distinctly reminded Tom of his conversation with Aliena, when she’d questioned Tom’s sexuality based on the rejections of his female admirers.

“She’s not homosexual.” Tom said firmly.

“Certainly she must be!” Alphard exclaimed.

“No…,” Tom thought. “It is just like you all said. She just needs a bit of persuasion.”

Elizabeth had been wondering what to do with that little vial of Felix Felicis ever since that fateful first potions lesson in which she’d won it.

She was contemplating that thought one night while wandering the castle after dinner, when she tripped over a lump of fabric on the floor.

She crashed to the stone floor, hissing when she sat up on her knees and holding her elbows, which had gotten fabric burn during her fall.

”Are you alright?” A baritone scratchy voice behind her asked.

Elizabeth turned, sitting on her ass. The pile of fabric wasn’t a pile of fabric at all. It was a boy, now sitting up from where he had been curled taking up half the hallway.

His chestnut hair was tousled and messy. He had hazel eyes that peered up at her sleepily. He was freckled and had a well-proportioned face. He was also older in appearance than other students— at least Aliena’s age. 

"Yes... I think so," Elizabeth managed to say, still sitting on the floor and rubbing her elbow. "What are you doing here?"

The boy grinned sheepishly, brushing his fingers through his unruly hair. "Well, I was taking a nap. Didn't expect to get woken up so dramatically, though." He offered a hand to help her up.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. His grip was strong but not overbearing, and when she stood, she realized he was quite tall—taller than most boys.

"Who sleeps in the middle of the corridor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her irritation softened by her curiosity.

He chuckled, shrugging lazily. "I’m bad at riddles. I'm Aldric Shafiq, by the way."

“Aliena Greengrass,” She offered her hand, and he kissed it. He must have at least been somewhat noble for the formal greeting.

“Not good at riddles?” She questioned. He smiled lazily and gestured to an unassuming door with a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. To her surprise, it spoke.

”How you were sorted into Ravenclaw is beyond me.” It said. It was a strange voice, airy and soft and could have been both male or female.

Oh. This was ravenclaw tower, of course. She had been on her way to the lookout tower where astronomy was observed. She wasn’t taking astronomy, so she was curious as to what it was like all the way up there. ”Bloody thing never let’s me in. Even though it knows my house.”

”Seven years and you’d think you’d be able to learn some riddles,” The knocker remarked back scornfully. So Aldric was a seventh year.

“What is it, then? The riddle…” She trailed off curiously. She wasn’t really good with riddles herself, but it could be quite a fun game to at least try.

“What has roots as nobody sees, Is taller than trees, Up, up it goes, And yet never grows?”

The voice was wisty and more mysterious than it had been when it spoke plainly. Aldric Shafiq frowned and said, “A blummin’ statue!” His ruffled appearance, messy robes, and laid-back attitude was certainly refreshing. A far cry from the prim Slytherins or the obnoxious Gryffindors.

Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile. She knew this riddle. It was in The Hobbit. ”A mountain,” she said. The knocker clicked in approval and the door swung wide open. Elizabeth could catch an airy, large room covered in bronze and blue beyond the threshold.

“Looks quite nice in there,” Elizabeth said, glancing at Aldric. “I can see why you'd want to nap in the corridor.”

Aldric laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, well, what can I say? Nothing like the stone floor to get a good nap.” His voice was scratchy and deep, and he still looked tired.

“I’ll see you around, then Mr. Shafiq,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, please don’t call me that. Aldric will do.” He said, sounding detestful about the formality of his name.

”Aliena, then.” Elizabeth followed with an easy smile.

Elizabeth took a step back from the door, not wanting to intrude on Ravenclaw territory. But her eyes still lingered to try and catch a glimpse. "It looks peaceful in there."

"Sometimes," Aldric said with a grin. "But I think you'd prefer Gryffindor Tower. Less riddles, more fun." He winked playfully. "Thanks for saving me from another few hours on the floor, though. I’m always having to wait for somebody to come or go."

"Anytime," she replied, still rubbing her elbow with a small smile. "But next time, maybe pick a quieter spot for your naps."

"Noted." He gave her a mock salute before stepping through the door.

As it swung shut behind him, Elizabeth turned and continued her walk, up and up winding staircases that got smaller and more twisted as she continued. By the time she reached the crest, she was out of breath. The cold breeze was refreshing, and she sucked in a breath as she walked into the empty expanse of a room. The openings were vast, with railways keeping students from falling out of it. Elizabeth sucked in a breath as she took in the view.

It was incredible. The black lake glimmered in the afternoon sun, and she could see everything from there. A care of magical creatures class was crowded near the edge of the forest like tiny ants. Students lingered in a courtyard, some chasing after one another playfully. She could very distantly hear the screech of a bird circling overhead or laughter from below. She looked up, and watched it fly gracefully in the sky— a kite in the wind. She sat there for hours. When the sun dipped below the horizon and distant chatter could be heard from a nearby corridor, Elizabeth stood from the spot she’d made herself near the edge’s opening.

It didn’t take long for Elizabeth to conclude that of all the places she’d explored thus far, this certainly was her favorite.

The very next day Elizabeth couldn’t resist trekking all the way back up to the tower despite how difficult the amount of stairs was. It was a good workout anyhow, she reasoned to herself. Her eyes caught on the Ravenclaw common room’s entrance, and the lump of boy that was sprawled against the wall. This time, he was curled up reading a small book and wearing glasses. He hunched over it, as if greedily taking in the information.

Elizabeth approached him, and he looked up at her, screwing up his eyes. “Oh!” he said in surprise. “I thought you’d be a Ravenclaw to let me in.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Sorry to disappoint. But perhaps I could try,” she offered. He stood up. His glasses were clear-rimmed and shaped like Albert Einstein’s. He briefly reminded her of what she’d imagined James Potter would look like, but he had a 5 o’clock shadow and was distinctly scruffy and calm.

“Oh!” he exclaimed again, just realizing he was wearing his glasses and quickly took them off and tucked them over his breast pocket. His uniform was in total disarray.

”What are you reading?” Elizabeth asked. It was too small of a book to be a textbook or one of the giant grimoires or tomes from the library.

“Er, it’s a french muggle novel.” Elizabeth caught sight of the title. L’etranger. Elizabeth couldn’t help her own breathy laughter. The first thing she thought was how weird it still was to know languages she simply did not know before, like how she somehow read and spoke Swedish and French without any effort at all.
But The Stranger? It had been popular in her time, but it was ironic to see now.

“The Stranger?” She asked. He nodded, his messy hair sticking up and falling over his forehead like he’d been running his hands through it.

”My father likes to send me some books he finds. Says it’s ‘good for the soul’.” He remarked. He spoke of his father fondly.

”I’ve heard something like that before,” she responded with an easy smile, thinking of Dumbledore. “Is it good?" She followed, gesturing to the book.

”It’s… well it’s a drag honestly.”

Elizabeth barked out laughter. His eyes followed her features. “How so?”

”I’m only a bit of the way in, and I can’t really understand the protagonist’s actions.”

”Well he’s absurdist. I don’t think he’s really meant to be understood by most people.”

Aldric looked at her in astonishment. ”You- You’ve read L’etranger?” he asked. His french was immaculate, and Elizabeth liked to hear other people speaking the language. It made her feel smart, in a strange way. 

“Une mauvaise traduction,” she responded.

”I didn’t even know there were any translations. It’s a recent publication, and it’s not exactly popular.” he remarked. Right. It wasn’t popular yet. She should have thought of that.

”I was studying philosophy while in St. Mungo’s.” She came up with, “I was curious about this new… Absurdist perspective.”

Aldric nodded fervently, his eyes brightening. “My father and I are very interested in philosophy.”

“I didn’t get very far,” she said with a soft laugh, “Got rather bored of it.”

He laughed, surprisingly. “I can understand that. Muggle subjects are interesting, but not at all like wizarding subjects.” A few voices broke in from behind them.

”Aldric! Sorry to make you wait so long,” The voice said. Elizabeth turned to see two students walking toward them. It was a girl and a boy. The girl was distinctly pretty, and the boy average-looking. ”Whose this?” The boy asked in a thick Welsh accent, his crooked teeth marring whatever attractiveness he may have had.

“Aliena, these are my friends Jessica Splink and Clyde Boots.” Aldric introduced, “This is Aliena Greengrass.”

Elizabeth had heard of Jessica Splink among the Gryffindor boys. She was one of the prettiest girls in the school, with large breasts, pale smooth skin, and shiny dark hair. She remembered how the boys had teased Declan Sullivan for his crush on the girl.

”Lovely to meet you, Aliena,” Jessica said casually with a charming smile. She smelled of nice perfume.

Elizabeth returned the smile. “You too.”

”Would you like some help getting in?” Clyde asked cheekily. Aldric seemed immune to embarrassment.

“Actually,” he turned to Aliena. “Would you like company? You’re going to the astronomy tower, aren’t you?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You dirty dog, that’s entirely inappropriate.” Jessica said, but sounding amused.

“Oh do join us. We were just discussing philosophy.” Aldric said, and Jessica soured. “Yuck!” She exclaimed.

Aldric laughed easily. ”Cela ne vous dérange pas?” Aldric said, his eyes sliding over to Aliena. She shook her head, no she wouldn’t mind.

”Oh don’t speak french,” Clyde demanded. The knocker spoke out a new riddle. Jessica said the response without a second thought, and the door swung open. It was a good thing, too, because Elizabeth wouldn’t have known it.

”Au revoir!” Aldric called, already turning to walk down toward the stairs going up.

”Adieu!” Clyde said back in the worst accent imaginable, and it sounded more like, “Aye-do!”

Elizabeth laughed and fell into step with Aldric.

Their conversation was held entirely in french, to Elizabeth’s surprise and delight. It was actually quite fun speaking in french. Not only that, but they didn’t even talk about philosophy much at all. It strayed to their own personal beliefs on the world, and to other things. Like a winding path with no end, conversation flowed easily and well. About their friends, and the differences between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. About the things they liked and disliked. Their conversation had somehow drifted to the topic of language. She hadn’t even realized they’d switched back to English until well after they started talking about it.

”Gibberish is a real language!” She exclaimed passionately. He was lounging on his side on the floor, and she sat with her back pressed up against one of the great stone pillars.

“That’s bogus.” He stated, laughing.

”I swear! I learned it in middle school! My friends and I would use it all the time.”

”Middle school?” he asked curiously.

”Oh…,” she realized. “It’s a homeschooling thing. From ages eleven to thirteen.”

”Say something in gibberish then.” he demanded playfully. ”

Hidigey, Idigi idigam spidigeigigkidiging Gidigibbigerbidigish.”

”All I got from that was Gibberish.” Aldric said dryly.

Elizabeth laughed out loud, nodding fervently. ”It’s fun and easy to learn,” she said.

”Teach me.” he demanded, propping his head on his hand.

She looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. She sighed. “Just a little bit.”

They ended up sitting there until after the sun had set and they only left when Aldric’s stomach had growled loudly. He tried to deny it, demanding they stay a bit longer, but she had none of his complaints and helped him of the floor. They stretched, bones popping, and made their trek down into the Great Hall.

“I’ll practice tomorrow!” he called as they split off at the entrance.

”Don’t make yourself crazy!” She called back and walked to her place at the table.

“I have something to show you,” Aldric’s easy voice sounded in gibberish the next day during lunch. Elizabeth looked over to see him leaning forward next to her, his hands braced on the table’s edge.

”You learn quickly,” she remarked back to him in gibberish.

“Meet me at the common room during your free period?” he asked. He didn’t say the Ravenclaw common room, but she understood. She nodded her agreement. He smiled triumphantly and left to go back to his own table.

“What was that?!” Saoirse demanded. Terra and Saoirse were the only girls there yet, everybody else still trailing in from their classes or leisure studying.

”Aldric Shafiq,” Elizabeth said simply, trying to eat her sandwich.

”I know who he is, but—!” Saoirse said, sounding incredibly shocked and desperate for more information.

“What was that language?” Terra cut her off in exasperated awe.

”Gibberish. He asked me to teach him.” Elizabeth said simply.

”And meet you after class?” Saoirse demanded, as if this was much more important.

”And you’re going to?” Edward asked. He had taken it upon himself to insert himself into the conversation.

Elizabeth shrugged. “He’s my friend.”

”When did you even-,” and Saoirse caught sight of the rest of the girls now taking their seats. “Oh, you’ll never guess-…,” she said and told them about the interaction. Elizabeth stopped listening, but was bombarded with questions anyway. She had no choice but to give every last detail on how her and Aldric had met. Edward was silent therin out, eating his food without looking in their direction.

Tom’s chirping birds worked overtime. Any information about Aliena was gained in record time. But this particular piece of information wasn’t from one of his Knights. It was from Ambael Rosier during Arithmancy. Since it was an advanced class, there was a combination of students from every house. It was normally quiet, and lecture based. Near him, Tom heard her whisper to Justus- her twin- a new piece of gossip.

”Aliena Greengrass is friends with Aldric Shafiq.” She said.

After the lesson Tom had taught Amabel she hadn’t been the same, but she was slowly worming her way closer, back into the exclusive sphere the Knights of Walpurgis ran in. She spoke the words without the same viciousness she’d held for Aliena before, but it was still cold with prejudice.

“Shafiq? The seventh year?” Justus whispered back. Tom glanced over, and they met eyes. Amabel was all too eager to dish out more information now that Tom was watching. She, after all, hadn’t known Tom was the one who had tortured her without remorse.

”Yup. Rumors spread quickly, do they not? He told her to meet him at the common room after her lessons today to show her something.” She said the last words as if suggesting something underhanded. Justus’ sneer was laced with pleasure.

”Which common room?” Tom whispered, curiosity piqued.

Amabel leaned forward, her face in front of Justus’. ”Gryffindor, surely. I wonder what sorts of things he’ll show her.” She said in delight.

“Maybe she’ll let me show her a few things next,” Justus said. Amabel rolled her eyes at him and leaned back in her seat.

Tom turned back to the front and his eyes zeroed in on Aliena, who sat across the room from him with a few of the other Gryffindors. She was paying attention to the lesson, writing quickly with her quill and biting her lip in concentration. A piece of silver hair hung in front of her face.

A flare of anger rushing through him and he clenched his jaw. He didn’t know why he was angry, but he didn’t need to know why. Tom was no stranger to the feeling. He welcomed it like an old friend.

Tom found himself conveniently parked near the Gryffindor corridor. He was speaking to a portrait among the moving staircases, his eyes trained on the corridor and those who came to and fro.

It was after Aliena’s free period. She should be here any minute. He had a class soon, but he would risk the consequences of being late if it meant he could get a glimpse of the happy friendship that had blossomed between Aliena and Shafiq.

When a group of students telling footsteps sounded behind him he spoke some more words to the portrait, pretending to be deep in interesting conversation.

”Riddle? What are you doing here?” Edward Spencer’s voice sounded. Tom Riddle turned, painting a beautiful expression of surprise.

”Just talking to a portrait. You?” He took in Spencer’s company. Weasley and Dunn. None of them had any particular dislike toward Tom, but the asian girl was short and seemingly shy, and Weasley was as territorial and defensive as any pigheaded Gryffindor was.

”Just heading back to the common room. Say, how are things?” Edward asked. Edward liked Tom well enough. They were both prefects, and it created a sense of one-sided comradery between them. Tom was no stranger to playing at friendship. He did it with the entire school’s population. Everybody loved him, even pigheaded Gryffindors like Weasley. The only prejudice they harbored toward him was the company he kept, who were far less charming than Tom was.

“Very well, and you?” he asked, glancing toward Dunn and Weasley. “Hullo, Dunn. Weasley, how is quidditch faring this year? I hear great things.” His easy flattery always struck true.

”Great,” Wesley said, somewhat more inclined to him, “Practice is brutal, but things are going to be different this year.” He must have been remembering their devastating loss of the quidditch cup last year to Slytherin.

“I look forward to it,” Tom replied with an interested smile.

”Oh, don’t flatter him Tom. You don’t even like quidditch,” Edward said with a laugh.

”Guilty as charged. Sports have never been my forte. Far too difficult for somebody like me.”

“Do you go to the Slytherin matches?” Weasley asked, unfurling that initial stone wall a little bit.

“Oh, not all of them. Only the ones that everybody says will be good.” Tom said.

”Well this one is gonna be great! Even if it is just Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, you ought to check it out!” Weasley said with untamed enthusiasm.

”You’re seeker, Edward. Any input on Harvey’s claim?” Tom asked. Using first names was always good when establishing camaraderie, and making one feel seen or heard.

He wondered if Aliena would be there. Of course she would, she’s a Gryffindor. They always went to every match. During matches with other houses, whoever was not playing would merge themselves into whichever side they supported more. If he could just find a way to get in with these fools, she would have no choice to be friendly toward him…

And if he actually became friends with them, then Aliena would, by default, have to fall in line. As this thought struck him, another one of their friends approached from the corridor. ”The team is a bit more refined this year. I daresay this match will be one to watch. Saoirse, you know Tom?” Edward asked, as the girl entered into the fray.

Tom himself would never use the word ‘refined’ to describe anything that had to do with quidditch, but these people were all the same. Fools, the lot of them.

But they had something he wanted.

“Tom!” The girl squeaked, her freckled face turning a bit red. It was a common reaction among girls. Even Dunn had gone a little pink at the sight of him. “Er, yes— I do.” She said finally. Edward ignored her and Weasley glanced over with a knowing look Tom pretended to miss.

“You should come!” Edward said re-enthused by the idea. “Saoirse and Natasha will be there along with the rest of our crew.” Our crew. How plebeian.

“And you’re friends with Aliena, too, right?” Edward added. He was really trying to get Tom to go. Well, despite Tom’s disgust Edward had struck a nerve.

“I’m afraid my friends would be boorish company compared to what you’re used to,” he said to Saoirse. She lit up red again. It almost blended her face into her strawberry blonde hair. Yes, Tom knew her. She had quite the horrific crush on him. Normally being in the presence of such a silly girl would have been vomit-inducing. But it suited his plans for now.

”Do bring them! Don’t worry about silly things like house feuds. It’s an archaic sentiment,” Saoirse claimed, surprisingly doing well to act demurely given her obvious fancy for him.

Tom didn’t think so. The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was well-deserved and often times the subject of infamy. His friends had often gotten into tiffs with the Gryffindor boys. Tom’s charm and ability to act corrigal was the only reason he was exempt. And he was confident that he alone was the exception to this rule.

Tom smiled gracefully anyhow. ”Perhaps I’ll leave them behind for the day,” He said.

Weasley let out a breath he seemed to be holding and laughed shortly. “Right. Right, good idea Riddle.” Tom sent him a knowing look as if they were buddies. Weasley returned it, seeming to think their understanding about the truth of house feuds was exclusive only to them. Idiotic fool, Tom thought.

Tom could continue to stall longer to see if Aliena would arrive, but he knew the truth. She wasn’t coming. Amabel had been wrong, and Tom should have known better. The Ravenclaw Common room, he thought in frustration. He should have known that with all Aliena’s explorations, she’d know where it would be by now.

“I’ve got to get to Professor Obahan’s study hall, I’ll be late.” Saoirse said, realizing how long they lingered. Professor Obahan taught astronomy, and held study hall in the classroom in the astronomy tower. Conveniently, the Ravenclaw Common room was on the path there.

Tom felt like a puzzle had neatly fallen into place. ”I’ll walk you. I’m heading that direction anyhow,” he said.

The girl flushed, and turned her face away. The rest called their farewells and walked down the Gryffindor corridor to their portrait hole. Tom’s eyes lingered there, and then turned back to the saphead next to him. ”Here, let me take your bag.”

Aldric was leaning against the stone wall upright this time, his hair falling over his face as he read his book. The book was so small he held it by the top in one hand, and looked rather like a romantic protagonist in some academic fiction novel. Elizabeth’s heart fluttered a bit at the sight. She ignored it.

“Hullo,” she commented. He looked up and over at her in easy leisure. Aldric snapped his book shut and put into the deep pockets of his robes.

”Ready?” he asked. She nodded.

He began to lead her down endless corridors, climbing up staircases hidden behind tapestries and taking pathways through unassuming doors Elizabeth thought were broom cupboards.

By the end of it, they were in a large expansive corridor with the afternoon light streaming through windows and illuminating the space in soft light. A ratty tapestry of a man being clubbed by trolls painfully hung on the wall.

Elizabeth distantly remembered this. ”Are we on the seventh floor?” She questioned. Adric sent her a smirking sideways glance. His aloofness was even more charming to her than the calculated coldness that Tom Riddle harboured, and she’d thought Tom was the most handsome charming person she’d ever met in her life (despite her knowing of his deep rooted evilness).

Perhaps, in some ways, Aldric was even more handsome in this soft light. A raw, unabridged beauty. Not quite so sculpted and perfect as Tom was. Maybe it was those imperfections- the warmth- that made Aldric more alluring.

”Yes,” he said. “Stay right there,” he added. She obeyed, leaning against a pillar in the wall. He walked back and forth three times in front of a blank stretch of wall, pacing with his eyes shut in concentration.

He then whirled around, and watched with careful eyes. Elizabeth’s own eyes followed his gaze. From the stone wall, a door emerged in beautiful swirling mahogany. Elizabeth sucked in a breath. She’d been meaning to find the room of requirement, and had known exactly how it worked, but it was another thing to see it in person. ”Nobody else knows about this. It’s my secret.” he said, stepping closer to her.

She tilted her head at him. ”Then why show me?”

”Because I wanted to. It’s… It’s not a normal room. It changes, you see. To whatever a person desires at the time.” He stepped forward and opened the door. Elizabeth followed.

The room within was expansive and had large vaulted ceilings. It looked like the interior of a cathedral, with stained glass windows. But the contents were different than what she’d expected.

A large sleek grand piano sat in the center. Rows of chairs, as if setting up for an orchestra were arranged around in a semi circle around it. Each one had a variety of instruments perched on the chairs. Violins, Chellos, Trumpets, Trombones. Even some strange instruments Elizabeth recognized from the musical wizarding shop in Diagon Alley. ”I heard you like music.”

”From who?” She asked breathlessly as she approached the piano. It was even more beautiful than the ornately decorated one at the Malfoy Manor.

”There were some rumors in Ravenclaw, after your first class in Charms. When you sang. And I heard from some Gryffindors that you had a guitar.”

Elizabeth pressed a key on the piano and the sound sung into the room. It was loud, and echoed beautifully in the space.

Her guitar was gathering dust underneath her bed. She hadn’t had time to pull it out and play in her leisure, what with her endless studies. Any other free time she had was devoted to exploring the beautiful complexities of Hogwarts.

“This is incredible,” she said, turning to Aldric. “Thank you.”

He beamed at her. ”I actually like music as well. I take some music classes. I’m surprised you don’t if you’re inclined to it.”

Elizabeth looked back down at the piano. “Ah, my aunt said it would be a waste of time. And the classes I’m taking are so difficult I need the extra study time.”

“Well, go on then.” He said with a smile. She looked back over at him. He was standing with crossed arms, looking at her expectantly. She hesitated, and then turned again. Finally, she sat at the piano and her fingers hovered over the keys. She wanted to play. She wanted to be good. To remember a song from her past, and remember everything that came with it.

The Beatles came to her mind. She began playing the keys to a familiar tune.

She began to sing, a lament of a world post-war. A world which has not come yet. Of lonely people and a woman. A priest who writes the words of a sermon.

She began to come to a lul mid-song, looking up at the expanse of instruments. She had read books on magical use of instruments. Of composers being able to create symphonies with a wave of their wands.

She glanced back at Aldric, who was watching with a firm attentive gaze, and pulled her wand from her sleeve. ”I’d like to try something I’ve learned, if you don’t mind?” She asked. Aldric nodded, entranced.

Elizabeth lifted it like an orchestra conductors baton, and without so much as uttering a single spell, she waved it in a gesture to hold in wait. All the instruments lifted, poised in perfect position. She closed her eyes and imagined the song in her mind’s-eye. Slowly, she began to descend, and the symphony began.

Like a master’s painting coming to fruition, or the cogs of a gear turning in sync with one another, the music began to sing. And so did Elizabeth. It began to slowly crest, building and building and building. She leaned as she stood, her body swaying as she instructed, picking up on certain sections and bringing them to rise further and further in tumultuous passion. Her arms stretched wide and rose it all up at once as she sang, sang, sang.

When it finally finished, in a soft drop and lull, she sang the final lyric. The silence held the echo. The instruments poised in their completion. She waved her wand down, and they drifted back to rest on their chairs.

She realized in a great moment of fear that she’d revealed too much. She had taken it to far. The blatant display of her magical ability wasn’t something that was supposed to be common— he would surely….

She finally braced herself and turned around.

Aldric stood now, arms lax at his sides in utter shock. His mouth hung open, and he sucked in a shaky breath. A single tear slid from his eye.

“I know it was a bit much-,” she started, ready to defend herself and try to somehow manipulate this down into less than what it had been. He came to her in three long strides and lifted her into the air, spinning her in a great hug before setting her down.

”That was incredible, Aleina!” He shouted. Another tear slipped from his other eye as he grinned at her. ”I-I’ve never heard anything like- like that in my entire life!” He was stuttering and pressed a hand to his forehead, looking at her like he’d won the lottery. ”You’re a genius!” He concluded. “A real live genius.”

Before she could open her mouth to protest, he enveloped her in another hug, her face buried in his chest before he quickly with-took himself and held her by her shoulders. ”You have to play me another.”

The walk to the astronomy classroom was brutally horrible. Tom found that any moments of silence seemed to be a root of panic for Saoirse Hawks. She talked and talked and talked whenever Tom had nothing to say. And often, she was talking about nothing at all. He finally managed to steer the conversation to more productive matters.

“And Aliena, I mean, she’s incredible isn’t she?” She asked in the middle of a rant about their classes. It had been talk about talent and discipline, and how others (Tom included) had it much easier than those who didn’t learn quite so quickly.

“Quite,” Tom commented, finally turning his head to look at the girl. She was much shorter than him, and he watched the top of her head as it bobbed up and down when she spoke animatedly. ”You and her are rather similar in your abilities,” She said. Tom inwardly bristled at the comparison, but let the girl talk. “You both are all the professor’s favorites. I mean, she’s only been here a couple of months and they all think she’s the cream of the crop.”

”Do you disagree?” Tom asked indifferently.

Saoirse flushed and tilted her head. ”No, of course I agree. It’s only that- well it can be hard sometimes seeing somebody come in and be so much better. Though, you’d probably not know how that feels Tom. You’ve always been the top of our class.”

“I do understand what you mean. Aliena is impressive.” Tom noted, trying to pry more negativity from this girl. She clearly harbored some sort of resentment, despite being Aliena’s friend. Such information was extremely valuable.

”She’s perfect.” Saoirse said with a sigh. It held more admiration than resentment, but those negative feelings were still there just below the surface, hinting at the back like a snake ready to strike. Tom was the best at those feelings. At feeding them well, raising them to become mighty beasts ready to feast at his discretion. ”Say, do you get along well with her?” Saoirse asked with a side-long glance.

”Whatever makes you think otherwise?” Tom pressed.

”No reason! Only that… well, it just seems as if she doesn’t get on well with her cousin. Malfoy.”

Tom hummed. “Well, it’s a love-hate relationship I suppose.” he said. He liked to keep his opinions neutral unless necessary.

Saoirse giggled. “You should have seen her after he walked into the Three Broomsticks the other day. You were there too, weren’t you? Did you see us?” She asked. Did you see me?  was the real question.

”I believe I did.” Tom commented.

”Yes, well as soon as she saw her cousin she ran to get rip roaring drunk. It was quite hilarious,” she said, laughing again. “I didn’t think she disliked him so until that moment.”

”Malfoy isn’t exactly the most welcoming a person,” he replied.

”Well that’s hardly surprising. You’re friends, I mean- all of you-- you’re very intimidating.” Saoirse confided in that unabashed way Gryffindors always spoke their minds. Tom thought it was a primitive thing to say. But, easily manipulated.

“You are not wrong,” he responded, softening his voice as if he was confiding something to her. “Slytherin is a totally different environment than Gryffindor. I admit I have found myself a bit… jealous at times.”

Saoirse was putty in his hands. She looked up at him with newly girlish sympathy. Tom hated sympathy most of all. But he played the part well.

”I-I hadn’t even thought of that. I mean, you’re so amazing! Tom, you have nothing to be jealous of at all.” She said passionately, though her voice betrayed her own elation at the idea.

He looked over at her and held her gaze for just enough time to make her question what the look would mean. “Thank you, Saoirse.” And the use of her name in such “open vulnerability” was the killing blow.

Finally, they were passing the Ravenclaw Common room. Tom’s eyes slunk to the door and the bronze knocker face. Nobody was in the hall. Not Aliena, or that tosser Shafiq. But just as they passed it, the door swung open and Tom came to an abrupt stop to watch. Saoirse followed suit, noticing Tom’s halt and looking over curiously. A girl excited. A girl Tom recognized well. She’d confided in him not long ago. She had needed a bit of direction, a bit of advice. He pointed her in a direction down a dark path that Tom knew would not suit her well.

“Tom!” She said in surprise.

”Jessica,” Tom said in greeting, inclining his head. She was holding a letter in two hands.

”Er, how are you?” She asked. Her cheeks were pink. As all girls were when they saw him. Jessica had harbored an admiration for him last spring when he himself had deftly had directed her attention to Rosier instead. Their patched up relationship was one-sided and extremely complicated. They were more often than not on bad terms, but always found themselves hot and heavy in secluded closets or corridors out of bounds. He’d heard the sticky details from Rosier more than he’d liked to.

“I’m very well, how do you do?” He asked. She nodded, and said, “Well. I was just, er,” She looked him over again and something played in her gaze. Tom couldn’t decipher what it was until she said, “Could you do me a favor, actually? If you don’t mind.”

”Well of course.” Tom said, always the perfect picture of well-manners.

”Would you deliver this to Rosier?” She asked, handing him a letter. It had a pink seal with small flowers pressed into the wax.

Tom nodded, taking it. “Of course. I’ll be sure he receives it as soon as possible.”

”Thank you!” She said enthusiastically, like she had won some game. Perhaps she was trying to use Tom to make Rosier jealous. He inwardly laughed. She was clever. Tom was probably the only person who could ever make Justus jealous.

“Good day,” he said, nodding, and continuing on. Saoirse trailed along by his side. ”Good day!” Jessica called back, and the door swung shut again.

There was a long moment of silence as they climbed another spiraling staircase. Tom hated this part of the castle the most. It was exhausting to climb, and not worth the trek in the slightest.

“You… know Jessica Splink?” Saoirse asked. Was that probing or jealous? Probably both.

”Yes. She’s close with one of my friends, Justus Rosier.” He explained, bored.

”Oh, right.” Saoirse said.

”Do you know him?” he asked. He was in truth indifferent, and this trip was growing more and more pointless. After missing the purpose of his subject here, he was ready to end it as quickly as possible. Thankfully, they reached the landing of the academic classroom. It was secluded away from the lookout, and much warmer and quieter inside than the windy expanse of the setting they used during class time.

“No,” she said quickly. “Just of him…” Saoirse said. She turned, trying to think of something further to say. Surely trying to keep him there longer. Tom took charge before such a thing could occur.

He handed her the bag, and said, “Good day, Miss Hawks.”

”G-good day, Riddle,” she responded, looking more flushed again and turned to rush back into the classroom. When the door shut behind her Tom finally let go of the mask he’d had on and rolled his eyes with a cruel sneer. How disappointing. He’d missed Aliena, and had to endure two excruciating encounters. Tom glanced down at the letter he held. He turned it to the front. ‘Justus’ it read in swirly perfect script.

Tom scoffed, and turned to walk up the last set of stairs to the lookout. It was perfectly empty, and Tom reached the iron railings, looking over the campus with a clenched jaw and fists. 

He looked at the letter as it flapped in the wind, and spitefully ripped it open and read the contents. Jessica had trusted him enough that she hadn't even thought to tell him not to.

‘Justus,

Meet me at the top of the Astronomy tower after the Halloween feast. I have a gift for you.

-Jess’

It smelled like that awful perfume she poured on herself. He ripped the letter and envelope up into tiny pieces, and watched it blow away in the harsh Scotland wind from the palm of his hand.

Tom turned, stepping away from the railway. Heights made him nauseous, and he hated that dip in his stomach whenever he looked down at the distant stone floor below. It was such a horrific thought— that all this power, all this life, could come to a quick splattery end with just one clumsy mistake.

He felt stupid as he descended the tower. He’d skipped class, and for what? Nothing good at all.

Chapter Text

Aldric and Elizabeth had become very fast friends indeed.

They became fast friends in the sense that you couldn't quite recall how it had happened in the first place, just that it was, and it would be for always. A secureness came with that. A promise for an inevitable future.

The meetings in the Room of Requirement became scheduled secrets. For the first time, Elizabeth had dared to sneak out past curfew. After running into Tom that time in the dungeons, she was hesitant to get herself into another sticky situation.

But the only person (or rather, apparition) she encountered was Peeves— who would have been quite a problem if he hadn’t been utterly terrified of her since their first meeting.

The routine began. It felt easy, and exciting. Something about Aldric was utterly relaxing. He made her comfortable— free of the restraint that she’d found with the Malfoys, or the exhausting excitement and drama of Gryffindor tower.

No gossip, no manners, and best of all they sang and played. Aldric himself was quite the musician. He played violin and piano, and knew some interesting irish and scottish folk songs. He always begged Elizabeth to sing more, and interrogated her about where she’d learned everything she knew. She’d made up lies— that she’d been learning from a young age and that most of the songs she played or sang she had written herself.

She couldn’t exactly say they came from another world and time, or that her strange magical abilities were the reason she was able to control an entire orchestra.

In reality, Elizabeth had something called 'perfect pitch' since childhood. Upon the discovery of it, her parents went on a proud tirade of teaching her every instrument possible. She learned at an exceptional pace, was playing in professional recitals as early as four, and even joined a youth symphony orchestra.

She was put in a school of the arts. She learned among the impossibly beautiful and incomprehensible geniuses. Elizabeth couldn't possibly compare to these people in a million years. She was a child prodigy brought to her knees. She wasn't the next Madonna, and she didn't have the creativeness of Andrew Lloyd Webber. She was just Elizabeth-- nothing more, nothing less. 
And in a school of the arts, if you weren't someone you were no one. 
She convinced her parents to transfer her out into the nearest public school as soon as possible.

The dreams of music died, and she was not sad about it. She had no ideas about that career other than that she carried a childhood talent for it and no incredible passion otherwise. And she admired her mother most of all for the strength and skill and bearing she had for motherhood in itself. And that was enough.

Aldric’s music experience had been formal and thorough. He knew many composers, muggle and magical. His mother, apparently, had been an opera singer when his father first laid eyes on her. It was love at first sight. Music had always been a centerpiece in his life as a result.

“Though, I’ve never seen anything quite like your abilities. It takes famous composers years to sort out that sort of magic. I can’t believe someone so young could manage it. Next thing I know you’ll be running around producing patronuses,” he said humorously.

If only he knew the talents of Harry Potter. He'd learned the patronus in his third year. She could only recall this affectionately in her memories. But even now, that writing of J.K. Rowling seemed primitive compared to the reality that was living in Hogwarts. Living within this wizarding world of paradise. 

They were both sitting on the piano bench, after finishing a duet that Aldric knew and Elizabeth read the sheet music for.

“Are patronus charms really that hard to produce?” Elizabeth asked, not sounding convinced. I mean, how many characters in Harry Potter managed one? Though, she thought, they all were main characters. Main characters had this certain rule about them where the laws of reality didn’t quite touch them. Elizabeth inwardly mused that she was a side character that had transmigrated into the body of another side character and had somehow in turn managed to become a main character. It was a funny thought.

What strange contortion was this that she lived in? A poorly constructed daydream? 

“Of course they are! Most wizards can’t produce one. I’ve only ever seen a patronus one time, and it was as a demonstration in Defense last year by Professor Merrythought. I suppose all you sixth years will be learning about them soon.” Aldric remarked.

Elizabeth shrugged, pressing a key and listening to the echo. ”I suppose… Can you manage one?” She asked.

He laughed. “No, I’m not a genius like you. But it’s not required to pass the N.E.W.T. exams, so I think I’ll be fine.”

”What are you going to do once you graduate?” Elizabeth asked. Aldric mused for a moment, leaning back on his hands leizurly.

“Maybeee… Sleep in alleyways and sell eyeballs to whomever trips over me.” Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head and lightly shoving his shoulder with her own. They both wore their pajamas when meeting at night— Aliena wearing a night robe and slippers. He always wore button up pajama sets with a long bathrobe. In Elizabeth’s opinion, they looked rather like wizarding robes if one didn’t know any better.

After he chuckled a bit at his own joke, he hummed and followed with, “I don’t know. My father works at Gringotts, and says he could get me a job there if I’d like but… I would like to try something different for a bit before I throw in that towel.”

”Different how?” Elizabeth quipped.

Aldric looked at her with a wry smile. “It’s a secret.” he said.

She groaned and tried to shove him but he laughed and hopped off the stool before she could. His glasses glimmered in the firelight from the torches and fireplaces that lined the room. When they met at night, it became much more cozy and warm. Rows of books lined the room, and squishy sofas, cushions, and armchairs splayed around in a mixture of shades of blue and red.

When they weren’t making their own music they read books on philosophy or music or the arts, and debated fervently. Conversations that were reminiscent of the ones she had with Dumbledore. Ar rather, used to have. Since the school year had started, he had remained her favorite professor. But they didn't talk as frequently as before. They had only had a few meetings— discussing her classes progression, the books they exchanged, and how her life at Malfoy Manor had been. Since she was so busy settling into her routine at Hogwarts, and he was busy with classes and students and grading, they didn’t speak as much as Elizabeth would have liked. Aldric, while not as wise or fatherly in nature, was a different sort of company. More playful and relaxed. And certainly more immature, despite him being in the grade above Elizabeth.

A beautiful cuckoo clock chimed from the wall as a little bird poked out, displaying the time to be midnight. 'Cuckoo' it seemed to say. Two little german men circled and banged twelve times on a tiny bell back and forth before circling back into their home. 'Cuckoo,' the bird finished. 

The night had gotten away from them, and Elizabeth had never intended to stay out so late. Aldric groaned, rubbing his stomach as he lounged longly on a sofa. His legs were too long and hung over the side.

“I’m hungry. Let’s go to the kitchens for a midnight snack.” he said.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, feeling the sleepiness weighing on her eyes. ”No way. We’ll get caught going all the way down to the dungeons.” Elizabeth responded.

”You know where the kitchens are?” He asked in surprise, looking up at her over the couch. She hummed a nonchalant confirmation.

He laughed and shook his head. “You never fail to surprise me. Only here for two months and you’ve already found practically every secret thing in this castle.”

Practically. She hadn’t yet stepped foot in the Chamber of Secrets. She’d considered it once, but quickly discarded the idea. The last thing she needed was to enter into that creepy place with a giant sleeping snake lurking somewhere within. Not to mention the horrific possibility that Tom Riddle still ventured down there. If she ran into him, she’d be signing her own death warrant. Not to mention, she didn’t know parseltongue.

“And yet I never fail to get lost on my way to half my classes.” She added, which was unfortunately true. If it weren’t for her friends guiding her around the castle, she certainly would. It was one thing to know Hogwarts from the books and movies. It was another to actually try to navigate. Which was why she had found her explorations not only interesting but vital. Knowing where she was going would be much more important than lounging around or trying to get ahead in her studies.

Elizabeth reached the Gryffindor common room without any incidents. Despite it being out of his way, Aldric always insisted on walking her all the way to the portrait of the Fat Lady. In exchange he told her that day’s riddle if nobody had yet told him the response. It was just about every time.

”Er-…,” he tried to remember sleepily. “What has to be broken before you can use it?" He finally said when he remembered.

Elizabeth sighed and contemplated for a long few minutes. Aldric leaned against the wall patiently, watching her pace a bit. Her face finally lifted when she realized an answer. ”An egg.” She concluded, feeling silly for how simple it was. He smiled softly at her, like he’d expected her to know it all along. ”What?” Elizabeth asked with furrowed brows at his expression. ”Nothing. Just thinking that you ought to have been sorted into Ravenclaw is all.”

“Are you insulting my bravery?” She countered playfully.

”Never.” he said with a smirk. He turned and walked down the hall with his hands in his bathrobe pockets. She whispered the password to the Fat Lady. The Fat Lady lingered for a long while, having woken up from her rest and muttering grimiply at the awakening.

“He likes you, you know,” the Fat Lady said with a pointed look.

Elizabeth scoffed. “We met two weeks ago,” she reasoned.

”I have seen and heard many things, young girl. I know a smitten teenage boy when I see one.” The Fat Lady said primly, and swung open before Elizabeth could retort.

Elizabeth huffed and marched through straight up to bed, her ears burning. She forced the Fat Lady’s comment out of her mind. She wouldn’t let the silly idea bother her. Because if he did like her she would have to stop being friends with him.

She certainly would have to. She couldn’t get attached to this place, no matter how much it and the people around her were worming their way into her heart. She would eventually find a way to return. Back to her real home. Back to her real parents.

And when she did, it would be much easier if there was nothing at all holding her back.

Not even a cute boy who learned her secret language in a day and sang with her until midnight.

“I didn’t know anybody dressed up for Halloween,” Elizabeth said that Thursday.

The girls were all holed up in their dorm room. It was even more chaotic than usual. Particularly with feathers, paint, and masquerade masks.

”Of course we do! There's a competition of who has the best costume.” Berniece said.

”Of course, we normally would have spent weeks making our costumes, but the older years tend to be more casual about it.” Terra explained.

”I mean, with these classes it’s hard to care about anything else!” Natasha exclaimed. She, unlike the rest, was sitting in her bed surrounded by books and trying to write an essay.

”Oh, you’ll be alright Natasha. You always over-prepare.” Saoirse said, holding up her mask. It was half-covered in feathers.

They had handed Elizabeth a black mask, and demanded she begin to decorate it. Elizabeth had learned that each year the Gryffindor girls had all coordinated their outfits. Although this year was apparently more “relaxed”, they were still going all out.

”How’s this look?” Gaia asked, holding up her mask to her face. It was a beautiful red with a large red beak and painted black around the eyes. A red cardinal. She wore the crimson cloak she had been planning to wear at tomorrow night’s feast. She had tried it on earlier and ran around the room demanding everybody's input, and didn't even take it off while she decorated her mask.

Elizabeth was still in the process of pasting her own black beak onto her mask.

Each of them had chosen different birds earlier that week, apparently. Elizabeth had been in the Room of Requirement with Aldric at the time, and they’d chosen for her and bought the supplies from Hogsmeade via post. Still, Elizabeth didn’t mind. They’d chosen her to be a raven, which wasn't so bad of a bird. She even had a set of robes that would do quite fine. 

Her meetings with Aldric were a subject of great interest to the girls, but thankfully they hadn’t been nearly as interested in him as they had been with the Slytherins, nor even Edward’s supposed attraction to her.

That subject was more touchy now in Elizabeth’s opinion after Gaia’s crush on him had been brought to light. While Gaia acted unassuming about it, Elizabeth could feel that things could become prickly if Edward ever actually pursued Elizabeth properly. It wasn’t something she wanted to endure, so Elizabeth avoided both the subject and Edward with elegance. In group settings, she sat away from him. When any sort of conversation was brought up, Elizabeth squashed it. And Edward's lingering gaze on her was promptly ignored.

”How are things going with that Aldric fellow? You meet him quite often.” Terra inquired.

"'That Aldric fellow'," Berniece mocked humorously. 

Elizabeth shrugged, pasting on midnight feathers.

”Are you going to go with him?” Gaia asked excitedly. She had been the most excited about the ordeal, for reasons Elizabeth suspected but did not voice.

“No.” Elizabeth said simply. “We’re just friends,” she reminded them, which she had said a million times over already.

”I heard from some seventh year girls that he’s a player,” Natasha said softly from the bed, as if this were grave news.

”Don’t spread gossip!” Gaia snapped.

”Ooo fiesty. Since when are you an advocate against gossiping?” Berniece asked with a raised brow and disbelief.

"Everybody knows he's a rake. He's infamous!" Terra remarked. 

”I wasn’t trying to spread gossip. I was just saying, if he were, then Aliena would need to be careful about her affections.” Natasha explained, a bit quieter yet firm after being snapped at.

”Very noble. But he seems an alright enough fellow, right Aliena?” Saoirse asked.

Elizabeth shook her head with a small smile. “If he were a playboy it would not matter. I’m not going to date him.”

"Playboy? What a funny term!" Natasha remarked.

”Why nooot?” Gaia whined.

”Don’t be crass, Gaia. Leave the girl be.” Terra reasoned. She did not like fuss about boys or romance in particular. Which was a shame because that took up easily half of their conversations.

”He’s brilliant, I heard. And very handsome, clearly.” Gaia added as if this would sweeten the pot.

“He’s spacy and strange.” Berniece said negatively.

”Hey, he’s my friend. And none of those things change the fact of which I’ve stated a thousand times.”

Gaia pursed her lips and turned back to her mask with furrowed brows. Saoirse swayed slightly and turned back to her own as well. They were both clearly very disappointed. Elizabeth did not care— she was tired of having the same conversation over and over again.

Aldric being a womanizer was certainly news, but Aliena had never heard of it before and had never seen him sleuthing around with any girls. Well… any girls but her. Was he a playboy? Elizabeth shook her head at the thought. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to date him.

The next day, Elizabeth found it wasn’t just the dorm room that was in chaos, but the entire school. It had been covered in decorations for a while— floating pumpkins and cobwebs and fake (?) skeletons. However, this day the ghosts were much more active than usual, joyously celebrating and being overall obnoxious as they flew straight through students and played tricks. Peeves was a terrible menace, but still avoided Elizabeth at the sight of her. Thankfully, the group had amounted it to sheer luck at avoiding Peeves’ pranks rather than what it truly was.

As they entered the Great Hall the Bloody Baron drifted by. Elizabeth met his eye. He nodded in acknowledgement, and drifted away. The group huddled together, excitedly discussing the strangeness of him bowing to them, and debating whether it was a bad omen or not. Elizabeth didn’t participate.

The boys had decided to dress up as their favorite quidditch players, all of whom Elizabeth had never heard of. Anthony decided to not dress up at all, much to the rest of the boy's beratement.

”We’re too old for this,” Anthony reasoned glumly.

”Declan dressed up,” Conor reasoned. That, too, was a surprise. Declan didn’t seem the type to dress up for Halloween.

“That’s because you made me.” Declan said in a monotone voice. He didn’t seem any more displeased than he usually did, though, so he must not have entirely objected.

Gaia, of course, was a bright red cardinal with equally bright lipstick.

Berniece dressed as an owl, and Terra a hummingbird with a long pointed nose. Natasha’s sparrow mask was sloppily done, but looked well enough. Elizabeth had thought Saoirse would be a hawk, given her last name was Hawks. But instead, she had chosen a brilliant white dove with a beautifully crafted mask.

”Who’re you trying to impress?” Michael chided with a knowing smirk.

”Nobody!” Saoirse squeaked, which was surprisingly out of character from her usual shameless confidence. Elizabeth wondered if there was something she was missing— had Saoirse actually managed to get a crush on somebody other than the Slytherin boys?

Elizabeth was too caught up in her assessing curiosity to notice that Edward had managed to snag the seat next to her as they reached their spot at the table.

”She’s got a crush on Tom,” Edward said, leaning in. Elizabeth jumped, looking over at him in surprise before slowly analyzing what she’d just heard.

”Tom?” Elizabeth asked, leaning forward toward Saoirse in disbelief.

As soon as they’d sat down Harvey Weasley had immediately dug into the feast without pause, so when he spoke it was through a mouthful of food. “Bloke’s a right fellow. He’s comin’ to the quidditch match tomorrow to watch.” Right fellow?! From Harvey? About a Slytherin? It was preposterous and horrifying. Elizabeth’s mouth fell open in shock.

“What?!” Elizabeth demanded.

”Edward convinced him to sit with us to watch the match!” Saoirse said excitedly, leaning forward as if this was exceptional news.

“I didn’t do it for you to fawn over him.” Edward said.

”But-! But, he’s a Slytherin.” Elizabeth responded.

”He’s not like the rest of his twat friends,” Harvey said, “He even let me borrow some of his Charms notes.”

”He also walked Saoirse to class,” Gaia said slyly, and Saoirse giggled with red cheeks.

”When?” Elizabeth demanded.

”Last week. He was an utter gentleman.” Saoirse sighed dreamily. Last week?! How had Elizabeth not heard of this? But she'd been sneaking around with Aldric, of course.

”He’ll be sitting with us tomorrow—,” Terra was in the middle of saying, before Elizabeth exclaimed, “No!”

They all paused to look at her. ”No, don’t invite him. He’s so- he’s so- so…,” she struggled over her words. 

”So what, Aliena?” Edward asked.

”He’s too pretty. It’s unnatural.” Elizabeth said quickly, not knowing what else to say. She couldn’t claim he was manipulative, because they wouldn’t believe her and she had no evidence to prove so. She couldn't claim he was rich or pureblood, because he wasn't! After the words came out she felt embarrassed immediately.

The girls laughed. “You can’t judge the poor fellow because he’s handsome. He can hardly help it.”

”He looks wrong.” Elizabeth stated. They laughed again.

”I thought you two were friends!” Gaia said with mirth.

”We are not friends.” Elizabeth said firmly. 

"Well he seems to think so.” Berniece reasoned.

“His friends are awful. I mean, you all see the way my cousin is!”

”Tom’s not half bad. Perhaps you should give him a chance before you pass judgement based on his looks and his friends.” Harvey reasoned. Why did he of all people sound so mature?

“A chance? But he’s a—,” Elizabeth started.

“Slytherin? You’re dating a Ravenclaw.” Gaia teased.

Edward choked on his turkey leg. Elizabeth quickly hissed, “He’s not my boyfriend! I met him two weeks ago. How many times do I have to say Aldric and I are just friends?”

Elizabeth was getting angrier and angrier by the second. Thankfully, someone seemed to notice.

Natasha gently tapped Elizabeth's arm, in said in a soft whisper. "Hey, it’s okay, Aliena. We’re just teasing."

Elizabeth exhaled, realizing she’d gotten worked up over something they didn’t understand. Sure, repeating the same conversation over and over was annoying, but the true reason for her anger was rooted in Tom. Tom— someone they had no idea of how dangerous and manipulative he really was. But why? Of all people, they defended Tom Riddle? She couldn’t understand it.

Deep down, she realized, 'He must have made this happen. He must have wormed his way in somehow.' But for what purpose would he have to go to a quidditch match? The only thing she could think of was to try and get closer to her, the same way he and his Slytherin friends had tried to do at the beginning of the school year.

Gaia grinned at her, pushing her half-eaten plate aside. “Oh don’t be angry. Aldric’s completely smitten with you, and I’m sure Tom’s right behind him.”

Saoirse frowned, and so did Elizabeth. That wasn't the reason for her anger. How could they be so deft?!

“I am not upset, and neither Aldric nor Tom are smitten with me,” Elizabeth shot back, her voice edged with frustration, though she knew deep down Gaia’s words had touched a nerve. Not to her, but perhaps to Saoirse. And maybe Gaia's own words had been the result of a nerve that had touched Gaia herself.

"Yeah, sure," Saoirse said with a wink. "But Tom's sitting with us tomorrow, whether you like it or not. And don’t worry, I'll make sure he doesn’t divert your attention from the match."

“Oh please. Nothing is going to steal the attention off our match.” Harvey said passionately.

“It’d better not,” Edward agreed joyfully.

The table erupted in laughter again, but Elizabeth wasn’t amused. She tried to force a smile but ended up fiddling with her goblet instead. Her mind was spinning, caught between her friends’ teasing and the dark truth about Tom that no one else seemed to see.

Edward, who had grown silent after the laughter, leaned in close again, his voice low. "You really don’t like him, do you?"

Elizabeth glanced at him. “You have no idea.”

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright... But don’t worry—he’s harmless. Actually, he’s rather kind."

That solidified it. Edward was just as foolish as the rest of them. Harmless and kind weren’t exactly the words she’d use to describe Tom Riddle.

Dippet thankfully didn’t have a speech after the feast.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure she could sit through that with her simmering mood. It had gradually calmed as conversation drifted toward more fun things until eventually the hall was called to silence.

“Now that your bellies are full, it is time for celebration!” He called. Celebration?

The hall burst into excited cheers, and Elizabeth looked around in confusion. She thought there would be a costume contest- right here in the Great Hall. Michael rubbed his hands together as Harvey stuffed his pockets with sweets and Berniece scolded him.

”Bonfire time!” Michael said excitedly.

”Bonfire?” Elizabeth whispered back.

Dippet continued, his booming voice silencing the noise. “Students, before you make your way to the Black Lake I would like to remind you of some rules.”

Some groaned, including the Gryffindors around her.

“Absolutely no straying from the Bonfire. Anybody found lurking in shadows or otherwise will be given immediate detention. The ghosts have been notified and are-," he coughed, "All!-too-happy to ensure you stay in line. Now, off you go!”

Everybody clamoured to stand, and set off.

“Did nobody tell you? There’s a bonfire after the feast each year. It’s great fun. Dancing, and music.” Natasha explained.

”And flasks.” Conor said in delight as he leaned down in between them, patting his pocket.

The girls gathered together in a clump, walking arm-in-arm and speculating whom would dance with whom. A Hufflepuff couple in their year who had broken up just that morning, and would their costumes still be a pair?

Tom Riddle was required to attend the bonfire as a prefect.

They’d had a meeting earlier in the week about monitoring students and such. He hated attending it each year-- it was nothing but silly childishness. But he caught sight of a gaggle of girls who were familiar to him now. Before, he would never have given them a second thought. But long silvery hair flowing out from underneath a dark mask was indication that these were the girls he was meant to be charming over to his side.

He didn’t approach them.

Instead, he walked with his Knights toward the fray. The night October air was brutal. Tom hated the cold, and always used warming charms whenever the air began to chill. The boys were all talking about stupid things again, and he tuned them out as he watched the group of girls distantly ahead of them.

As they all crested the hills along with the rest of the crowd of students, Elizabeth marveled at the sight in front of her.

The large field in front of the Black Lake was lit up with small campfires encircling it. At the center, a giant pile of wood easily the size of three elephants stacked on top of one another stood waiting for them. It was not yet lit, but the space was illuminated enough to see the festivities. Bats swooped overhead, and ghosts were dancing eery waltzes around the empty field. The music came from a band of violins and fiddles and drums and all sorts of instruments. A bagpipe rose above the sound as the strange song crested.

The students gathered in a great tight crowd circling the scene, watching and clapping along. As the song came to an end, the crowd cheered and all the ghosts flew toward the center at top speed, gathering together in a great display of bluish white light flickering in between the stalks of dark wood. Suddenly there was a burst of flame, and orange fire erupted from the wooden pyre with a great ‘whoosh’. The crowd applauded and whistled. The ghosts exited from the top, flying down to greet the students as they pressed into the open field.

Nearly Headless Nick found his way to the Gryffindors, and everybody cheered and called his name. He nodded to them, smiling with excitement. ”G’day students. Happy all hallows’ eve,” he said as he passed Gryffindors of all years.

”Happy death day!” Students called back to him. He laughed happily and thanked them by tipping his head and showing his gory interior. He laughed even harder at the students visceral reaction to it.

”Edward, keep an eye on these young folk. I shall be wrought with festivities.” Nick said as he passed them. Edward nodded with a laugh.

”Are you friends with him?” Elizabeth asked curiously, remembering how Harry Potter himself had been friends with Nearly Headless Nick in his time.

“Friends? Well… I’m a prefect, so I suppose he knows me more than other students. He’s friendly with all the Gryffindors, though.”

Elizabeth hummed.

“He’s spooky. I hate it when he does that thing with his head,” Natasha confided to Elizabeth as she still held her arm. She clinged, as if scared of the ghosts despite the time she'd spent in their presence.

Elizabeth looked down at her in amusement. “Are you afraid of the ghosts?” She asked.

Natasha shivered. ”I- no. I just never got used to them. I’m a muggleborn, you know.”

”I know, I just thought it was funny.” Elizabeth teased, pinching Natasha’s cheek, which just barely showed under her mask. Natasha hissed and swatted Elizabeth’s hand.

”Come dance!” Gaia demanded, grabbing Natasha and Elizabeth’s hands and dragging them forward. Terra hop-skipped and they all ran toward the center ear the mountain of fire. The music had shifted from the ghostly tune of before into a folk-dance. One that Elizabeth had imagined she’d find in an old-timey tavern.

They all linked hands in a circle and began dancing and spinning and twirling around, letting go but still holding formation as they stepped. Elizabeth stumbled as she tried to keep pace in confusion. Of all the dances she’d learned, she never saw anything like this. She followed the other’s lead, and eventually settled in as she learned when to turn and when to link arms or hold hands with one another over their heads. There was no pattern, or rhyme or reason to it. Just freestyle joy and splendor. She may have felt embarrassed, if all her friends weren’t doing it right along with her.

After one song, Elizabeth was sweaty and out of breath. She stepped out with Natasha, and Berniece left to go drag Harvey in.

They returned to the group of Gryffindor boys who were observing. ”Where’s Conor and Declan?” Natasha asked curiously.

”Went to go find their little paramours.” Michael said.

”And you? Where’s your paramour?” Elizabeth followed in a teasing tone.

”Somewhere with her new boyfriend.” Michael spat glumly. Anthony clapped him hard on the shoulder and Michael stumbled forward and turned back incredulously.

“Don’t pout. There are plenty of pretty girls.” Edward stepped forward toward Elizabeth, which she spotted out of the corner of her eye.

Elizabeth spoke before he could get any strange ideas. ”I’ll dance with you, Davies,” She said, holding out her hand with a smile.

“Really?” He asked excitedly.

She laughed and grabbed his arm as he bounced forward. She led him closer to the dancing crowd but not too far from the group. He began to spin her around obnoxiously. He tried to teach her a muggle dance, but it was very complicated and Elizabeth laughed as he berraded her for her steps. Natasha watched on and cheered. They all laughed when Michael almost fell over into the grass and Elizabeth just barely caught him by the hand.

”Don’t let her dip you, fool! It’s supposed to be the other way around!” Edward called with laughter.

”Sorry, I’m a rubbish dancer. And teacher,” Michael said to Elizabeth as he pressed her out and in a few times.

She laughed and shook her head. “You’re perfectly fine, Mr. Davies,” she said as the dance crested to a close and ran into the next one.

They returned to their group.

“How was my dancing, Anthony?” Michael asked happily, dipping his arms and hopping from foot to foot like the goofball he was.

Anthony grunted noncommittally. Elizabeth thought their friendship was funny, if not strange. They were total opposites, and were fighting more often than not, but they oddly gravitated toward one another despite their differences.

Anthony watched Michael pretend to be a ballerina with a frown and crossed arms, but there was a hidden mirth in his eyes as he watched. A tiny careful quirk at the corner of his lips. Michael sought out Anthony’s expression in the same way a peppy dog would wag a tail at it’s owner.

Elizabeth tried not to read to much into it.

”Would you-,” Edward’s voice sounded. Elizabeth turned, to find that he’d approached her. Oh no.

”Aliena!” A voice called from behind.

She turned around and a scarecrow was walking toward them at a leisure pace. He wore a mask, but Elizabeth knew that black unruly hair and scruffy voice. He took off his mask so it hung around his neck.

”Aldric.” She said back as he came to stand before her, a perfect picture of relief.

”I have bad news,” he said, scratching the back of his head guiltily.

”What…?” Elizabeth asked

“I have detention all of next week. I won’t be able to meet you in the room.” Aldric said in gibberish.

Edward, who had come to stand next to them, gaped in confusion. He’d heard them speak gibberish, a week ago in the great hall. It must still sound strange. Elizabeth chose to ignore it.

”What did you do?” she asked back.

“Got caught out of bounds. I went to the kitchens after I dropped you off but…” he trailed off with a guilty look. She rolled her eyes at him.

”What are you two saying?” Edward asked. He sounded curious with a hint of annoyance.

”Sorry!” Elizabeth said, realizing how rude this must be. “Edward, do you know Aldric?”

Aldric shook his head. “Don’t believe we’ve officially met before, but I’ve heard about you.”

Edward nodded, outstretching his hand, “Edward Spencer.” 

”Aldric Shafiq,” Adric said back, shaking his hand.

”How’d you know it was me? I’m wearing a mask.” Elizabeth asked curiously.

”Your hair gives you away. Kind of hard to miss.” Aldric responded. Elizabeth nodded, taking her mask off and twisting it around to hang off her neck from the back. The black ribbon held around her throat like a choker.

Edward gasped shortly when he caught sight of her face and masked it with a cough. Aldric stared at her.

”What? Is there something on my face?” Elizabeth asked, lifting her hands to her cheeks.

”No, you’ve just got a lot of-.. a lot of eye makeup.” Aldric said smoothly with a small endearing smile.

Oh right. The girls had made it a scene to do an extensive black smokey eye. It made her grey eyes look even more stark and bright than usual. She had thought it looked pretty, and very perfect when she wore the mask so that it blended into her face.

”Is it too much?” She asked, cheeks pinking at their stares.

”No!” Edward said a little too quickly. “You look beautiful.” The silence that followed was awkward, but Edward didn’t look in the slightest embarrassed. He instead stood a bit taller, and stepped ever-so-slightly closer to Elizabeth’s side as he met Aldric’s eyes.

What the ever-loving fuck is this?  Elizabeth thought. It felt mortifying. Aldric’s smile was still easy, but there was something steely there when he slightly tilted up his chin. Oh God, please someone save me.

”Aliena!” A voice called. Elizabeth’s stomach flooded with sweetness at the sound of Gaia’s voice. She looked forward to find Gaia, Saoirse, and Terra skipping toward them with pink flushed cheeks and glowing faces.

”Hello! How was your dance?” Elizabeth asked, very happy for the interruption.

”It was wonder- oh! Mr. Shafiq, lovely to see you,” Gaia said formally, nodding to him. The rest of the girls took in the new figure.

He smiled at them happily. “Call me Aldric, why don’t you? It’s lovely to meet Aliena’s friends,” he said, subtly sideways glancing at Edward before his gaze snagged on Elizabeth. She smiled up at him and nodded.

”This is Gaia, Saoirse, and Terra. Natasha is…,” Elizabeth said, looking around. Natasha was lurking behind her, and Elizabeth waved her shy friend forward.

“Right here. And Michael and Anthony are…,” the boys were enraptured with each other’s bickering, but turned to pay attention, “Here too. Declan and Conor Sullivan are off somewhere…” She trailed off.

“Lovely to meet you all.” Aldric said, nodding to the boys who approached them. They were all standing in a big circle now, all eyes on the new form that was Aldric.

”Aldy!” A feminine voice called. They all turned, and two forms were approaching.

Jessica Splink and Clyde Boots approached wearing costumes of wizards Elizabeth couldn't recognize. They smiled joyfully at her and waved.

“Aliena! How are you doing?” Jessica asked happily. Her cheeks were pink, and words slightly slurred. Clyde was ever-so-slightly stumbling.

”Lovely, how are you Jessica?” Elizabeth asked.

”She’s pissed.” Clyde said in his thick accent. Jessica shoved him hard and he stumbled further but bounced back just as quickly.

“I’m not pissed.” She said fervently. “Clyde’s more pissed than I am.”

”I meant miffed.” Clyde said in exasperation. ”Oh. That. I am miffed. Hullo, all. Aliena’s friends— lovely to meet you.” She said, sounding chipper for someone who was supposedly angry.

“This is Clyde Boots and Jessica Splink,” Aldric introduced. Elizabeth went around stating everybody’s names. It was all getting rather extensive and confusing. The girls had somehow dragged Elizabeth into their linked arms, and Gaia whispered in her ear in awe, “Jessica Splink. She’s the most popular girl in Hogwarts!”

“Aliena! Tell me why your cousin’s friends are all twats?!” Jessica demanded, garnering their attention. Aldric laughed and patted Jessica on the shoulder, but she was clearly a woman scorned. Hell hath, and all of that.

”I believe it’s genetic defect.” Elizabeth responded fiercely.

Jessica laughed happily. The girls watched in wonder as “the most popular girl in school” talked to Elizabeth as if they were friends. In truth they’d only ever met that one time, but Jessica was clearly drinking and probably more inclined to friendliness than she would have been sober.

”Tom’s not a prick,” Edward reprimanded in defense of his supposed “friend”, bringing Elizabeth back to the conversation from earlier.

”Yes, that Tom Riddle is the only exception.” Jessica agreed. Elizabeth gaped, and glanced to Aldric to try and scope his reaction.

Aldric looked indifferent, but Clyde turned to him. “Didn’t he save you from a week of detention?”

Aldric elbowed him in the ribs but confided, “I suppose Tom is the good apple.” Even Aldric was a victim of whatever Tom’s plans were.

Aldric caught her look, and he leaned in and whispered, "It was supposed to be three weeks, but Tom managed to bring it down to one." 

Elizabeth’s blood boiled but she kept her mouth firmly shut.

”The rest are slags, though. Especially Rosier. Stay away from that one,” Jessica advised to the girls. They all took in her words and nodded in agreement. Jessica looked satisfied.

There was a loud shouting, and the crowd silenced and turned. A girl standing on a platform was calling everybody to attention over the great crackling fire. She pressed a wand to her throat and said in a booming voice, “The Frog Choir would like to perform for you all at this year’s Halloween Bonfire!”

The crowd cheered and gathered as if they’d been waiting for this. Elizabeth turned and watched as a formation of students stood holding giant toads and the girl on the platform turned with her wand in instruction.

With a flurry they started, along with the band who sat behind them. The song was underway, and sounded eery but beautiful as their voices carried over the crowd.

A light tap to her side and Elizabeth turned to look up at Aldric, who had bumped into her. He held a small silver flask in his hand, low at his side as he bumped it against her hand. She took it and leaned into her friends to conceal herself as she took a long swig and then handed it back.

It burned harshly, and she coughed into her elbow to muffle the noise. Aldric chucked softly next to her, and Edward turned with an inquisitive look, which Elizabeth ignored altogether.

The song was long and as it continued. Aldric offered her the flask two more times, both of which she accepted. As the music furthered, Aldric grabbed her hand and leaned down. “Let’s sing.” he whispered.

She gaped up at him in disbelief. “No!” She whispered back.

”Come on. It’s a crime not to,” he firmly said, and dragged her along through the crowd so quickly she didn’t even have time to look back at her friends.

Well, what’s the worst that could happen?, she thought. As he lead her through the crowd by her wrist, she took the mask and positioned it back on her face, smoothing back her hair so it sat better.

Right as the song came to a close, Aldric let go of her hand next to the pedestal and he jumped onto it, whispering in the student conductor’s ear. She turned to look at him in happy surprise, and then nodded. She turned back to the applauding crowd, wand pressed to her throat.

“Before we continue with the festivities, I’d like to invite you all to listen to a song by our very own Aldric Shafiq,” the crowd cheered so loud, whistling and hollering, “and his friend, Aliena Greengrass.” Among the cheers, there was also a murmur of whispering.

Aldric turned and gestured her up to the platform, and Elizabeth shifted slightly before gathering her nerves and stepping up. She took his outstretched hand and she stepped up, looking toward the crowd of students. Hundreds of eyes on her. A particularly loud group of students whooped and hollered and whistled from the direction they’d come from.

You’re a Gryffindor, she thought. Act like one. She smiled and nodded at the crowd. The whiskey certainly was helping her nerves. Maybe that’s why he’d plied her with it in the first place.

Aldric was speaking to the band and choir now, and they all turned to look at Elizabeth with fresh eyes. The conductor fell into place at the center of the choir.

“Play that song you sang to me last time. The one about the lass who was gone," Aldric said.

Elizabeth laughed shortly. She couldn’t believe it. She wanted him to sing that? She sucked in a breath and whispered, “I can’t conduct a choir, or a band—"

”I can. I remember it. My magic will carry them through it, they don’t have to know. Come on. Sing,” he demanded.

She sucked in a breath. He smiled at her brightly, and knew he’d won. He plucked his mask off his head and waved his wand at it. The mask extended and warped into a long stick. No, not a stick. It was some sort of microphone, but instead looked like a small bronze megaphone. Elizabeth didn’t know he was that good at transfiguration and sucked in a breath of surprise. She also hadn’t known he could conduct anything at all.

Aldric had acted like she was a genius, but he certainly was somebody to gawk at himself. The crowd cheered at his display of magic. He placed the stand on the platform, facing the crowd.

What game was he playing at? She swallowed, held the microphone and turned toward the crowd as he turned the opposite direction and held up his wand at the ready.

She sucked in a breath, and said, “Hello,” into the microphone. It boomed out among the people.

The crowd cheered in response, some calling her or Aldric’s name. She looked back and he met her eyes with a smile.

He nodded. ”One, two, three,” he whispered, and she began to sing the words.

At first, it was only her words carrying over the crowd, and it was just the sound of her extended voice singing the words slowly.

”Sing me a song of a lass that is gone

Say, could that lass be I?

Merry of soul, she sailed on a day

Over the sea, to Skye,”

The music began slowly, stringed instruments and drums joining in one by one.

“Mull was astern,

Rùm on the port

Eigg on the starboard bow

Glory of youth,

glowed in her soul

Where is that glory now?”

She sang the chorus now again, extending the notes and letting her voice carry. She watched the faces of the onlookers, shadows playing on their faces from the light of the fire.

“Give me again,

all that was fair

Give me the sun that shone

Give me the eyes,

give me the soul

Give me the lass that's gone,”

She looked beyond, near the right edge, and caught a particular face she couldn’t forget if she tried. A head of white blonde hair next to him, those blue eyes piercing into her. She glanced back at the depthless assessing brown, and found it within herself to sing the chorus again louder, with more purpose.

The bagpipes and drums rose higher, matching her tune. The voices of the choir joined in, pushing her angelic and airy voice further.

As the song came to a close the drums and bagpipes closed out, sounding distinctly militail.

When they finally stopped, the crowd was silent for a great moment, and Elizabeth’s ears rang so loud in her head she didn't know if she was dreaming when he heard the cheering the followed. But no, she saw the elated cheers and clapping before she heard it, and it all hit her like a truck. Elizabeth stepped back, hand over her mouth in shock.

Aldric put his hand on her shoulder, grounding her, and she looked up at him. He was beaming brightly, and exclaimed, “You did amazing!”

Elizabeth laughed shortly, and then the smile stuck. She turned back to the cheering, whistling, the yells for an encore.

Aldric removed his hand from her shoulder. ”Would you like to sing another?” He asked. She hesitated.

And then turned to him and nodded. ”I can do this one. I haven’t showed you this one yet.” He smiled as if this was incredible news.

“Just do the same you did before, they’ll follow. Pretend the choir are instruments. Pretend the instruments are sitting on chairs,” he said, and then turned and stepped off the platform.

The choir and band were even applauding her, looking at her in a similar way that Aldric had when she’d first played for him.

“Are you alright if I conduct you now?” She asked them. They nodded fervently. She smiled at them.

The song would certainly sound different, but she could make use of what she had with the addition of the choir. She finally turned and approached the microphone. Everyone clapped fervently, but quieted in attention as she closed in to speak. The crowd had gathered closer, so nobody lurked in the back behind the fire anymore.

”I’m glad you liked my song.” She spoke softly. They all cheered so loud it almost overtook the sound of her voice. Even the ghosts had gathered in the air to watch.

”If you don’t mind, I think it’s time for a waltz.” The entire crowd went berserk, students turning around to find partners. She let them fuss for a few moments, writhing through the crowd and speaking encouragements, making declarations. Elizabeth caught sight of her own crowd, bellowing louder and more obnoxiously than all the rest as they paired off with one another. Elizabeth smiled in their direction. 

She also noticed a shadowed crowd near the edge— Tom Riddle and his gang. Most of them joined in to try and find partners, looking at her with expressions she couldn’t see. Tom and Abraxas and a couple others remained, waiting and watching with interest. Elizabeth pulled the ribbon at the back of her head, and it fell to the floor and off the platform. The crowd cheered louder, if that was possible. A cool breeze on Elizabeth's exposed face. And she almost felt as if she could feel the warmth of the fire, even from here.

Tom’s eyes narrowed, but she wasn’t watching anymore.

”You didn’t tell me about this,” Tom bit out to Abraxas. ”She didn’t tell me she was going to go around performing on a stage like some harlot.” Abraxas bit back, equally as angry, if not more.

Elizabeth faced the crowd in a manner that none before her had done. She didn’t know this of course. She didn't know the intimacy in which she held them in the very palm of her hand. 

Like a conductor she raised her arms, and the crowd was her orchestra. A twinkling beginning. But when she started, when she really started, the voices behind her began just as she intend. Humming a light soprano melody. She glanced back, and the choir looked surprised in their own tune, like their voices had come out of their mouths of their own accord. Elizabeth turned back to continue.

Aldric watched in awe, mouth agape. Her singing began soon after with a chorus of a story, still as she conducted. A thousand moving parts, blind. As she sang. It was impossible. But it was happening before Aldric's very eyes.

She sang to them, and the phantasmic tune was reminiscent of the ghost’s waltz from earlier. After the initial chorus, the students fell into the waltz. The ghosts did too, high above the crowd in a second layer. The choir’s voices carried out in a strange tone after Aliena stopped singing the main lyrics, before she turned back again.

It was a song about a distant memory. Of comforts from long ago. Far away, long ago, things yearned to be remembered. 

Aldric listened to the words, wondering if she was thinking of home. Of the snowy winters of Sweden. Of things she desperately wished for. His heart lurched painfully at the thought and he couldn’t bring himself to join the dance as a result. What do you miss, Aliena? Why does your face look so mournful, so sad?, he thought.

Tom stood in the shadows, watching as her voice carried the final eery note.

Aliena’s voice had a haunting, timeless quality—smooth and velvety like the ballads of the old world. Still it was layered with a familiar wistfulness. A dreamy melancholy quality of elegance that drifted through the air like smoke. Yet, impossibly still, her higher notes were crystalline and delicate. It was a happy feeling. A sad feeling. Two at once. He couldn't distinctly place it as any single feeling. And these two juxtaposing feelings brought to life by nothing but song? Nothing but her voice?

He wanted to hear more. His greed for more drilled into his skin methodically— ant’s driving into the earth to create a home underneath the surface.

Something deep within him was stirring. That strange feeling from before. An incessant growing pain. Like an ingrown toenail he desired to rip out.

Tom turned and stalked back toward the castle.

Marius Avery tried to follow, and Tom hissed at him in parselmouth. Avery couldn’t understand, but the tone spoke for itself.

“I-I’m sorry, my lord.” Avery said. Tom left him behind without a second glance.

There was no debating it now. He would kill her. He would find whatever secrets she hid within her, rip her power away for himself, and then kill her.

Chapter Text

The entire school was talking about Aliena Greengrass’ performance.

Immediately after she’d finished her rendition of a waltz, Elizabeth had left the platform with Aldric by her side. But as they walked through the crowd, students she had never met before came up to her and commended her performance. The choir club bombarded her with questions, but Aldric had deftly saved her. Her friends were probably the worst of them all. They surrounded her with a parade of questions and compliments. It was so overwhelming that she welcomed any dances she could if just to get away from the chaos.

Elizabeth never had this much attention in her entire life. In high school, nobody even looked twice at her. When Aliena's face had been plastered across newspapers, she didn’t feel quite connected to it. Even when students had whispered about her at the beginning of the term she still hadn’t been so directly involved. But now, it was different. Students knew her, and wanted to know more.

Was this popularity? The unimaginable beauty that she’d gained from possessing Aliena’s body had already been too much to manage. But popularity of her own merit was something else altogether.

Is it of my own merit?, Elizabeth thought. It wasn’t really her power, was it? It had to belong to Aliena, or maybe it had come from something else entirely.

She theorized how these unearthly abilities were probably from the same source that had torn her away from her own reality and stamped her into this one. But what could it be? She couldn’t very well ask anybody directly without incriminating herself. 

Elizabeth had been attempting her own research to no avail. There was absolutely nothing about interstellar travel in the library, unless it was hidden somewhere within the restricted section.

Maybe Dumbledore had a hint.

If anyone did, it would be him. And if it came to it, if there was anybody she could trust with the truth of her circumstances-- it would be him.

Elizabeth contemplated this thought as her and her friends once again all trekked toward the quidditch pitch the next morning. First match of the season-- Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor. It was particularly windy that day. Horrible quidditch conditions, and even worse for watching. Elizabeth liked sports ambiances, but had never experienced one in such unpleasant weather. She was starting to wish her friends didn't like quidditch so she could skip out on such things.

”Great performance, Aliena!” A student called as they passed the group of tightly huddled girls on their walk. It was the fifth time someone had acknowledged her that morning. Her friends were eating it up well.

“Don’t worry, more to come soon!” Berniece called back. They’d already schemed to continue this procession of Aliena’s talent, feeling themselves the sole managers of her abilities. After her friend's initial shock and surprise and outrage that Elizabeth hadn’t told them about her abilities sooner, they were very smitten with the idea that they held a valuable piece in a larger game that was popularity.

Tom Riddle was alone that frigid morning.

He hadn’t thought to try and come up with some agreement of where to meet with those barmy Gryffindors. After last night’s fury, he had left without thinking to create some sort of plan to meet with them for the quidditch match. So he stood alone by the entrance to the pitch with his hands in his pockets and Slytherin scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. It wouldn’t have been insufferable were it not for two reasons.

The first was just about every group of students greeting him as they passed, some even having the gall to try and strike up conversation or pry into his reasons for waiting there. They were annoying to manage, but Tom did well at bending people to his will.

The second reason was the whispers of discussion about Aliena Greengrass. He heard them, and even had some students make comments to him about her directly. They spoke of her performance as if she were a newfound celebrity. Tom hated it. She was insufferable and difficult. And utterly different from anybody else that he’d ever met in his life.

She wasn’t susceptible to his charms at all, and carried with her a suspicion from the first time they’d met. He hated the way she seemed to see right through him. He hated the way he had let his anger toward her overwhelm him so much that he’d stormed away from the bonfire, leaving him a night full of missed opportunities. And most of all he hated the way he was standing here in the early morning cold waiting for a quidditch match (a game he avoided at all costs) as insufferable students approached him from all sides— and he was enduring it all for her.

Was it even worth it? If he could manage to kill her in the same way he managed to kill Myrtle Warren then none of this would matter.

But that was too risky, with Dumbledore’s watchful eye and the possibility of Hogwarts shutting down as a result. If he could make it look like a suicide… that was another story. He was just contemplating this plan when he saw a gaggle of red scarves and shrill voices approaching.

A group of Hufflepuff boys had paused in a huddle as the girls passed them, talking lowly to each other. All of their eyes were on Aliena. In admiration. Curiosity. 

“Saoirse!” Tom called as they got closer. Saoirse certainly was the one he wanted to speak to least, but she was also the easiest to manipulate out of the bunch. The girls looked up.

“Tom!” Saoirse called back, her face turning that deep hideous scarlet he detested. But his eyes slide to Aliena and got stuck there. Her face was pale, and cheeks and nose were red from the cold. While her arms were linked with her friends on both sides, she was wrapped up in her robes and mittens and a chunky red and gold scarf. Her white hair plumped out around from the scarf, with pieces straying around her face in that insufferably efforless disarray she always seemed to carry.

Tom hated that she was beautiful. He could probably stand her more if she weren’t.

”Aliena,” he added in greeting as they stood in front of him. All of their eyes gazed up at him in that familiar wonder that all girls had when they looked at him. Of course, all except for Aliena, who avoided his gaze strictly.

Merlin, he wanted to grab her face and force her to look at him.

One of her friends elbowed Aliena, looking over in expectation. Aliena coughed dryly, and said, “Hullo, Riddle.” It was clearly a strict formality. She only met his eyes for a moment, and he clung to that bright silver. He had no choice but to shift his gaze over to the other girls. “Gaia, Berniece, Terra, Natasha. Good to see you all.”

They all nodded, and gave back sweet greetings. Saoirse began to babble, and Tom wished he didn’t have to wear this never-ending mask of kindness.

One day, he reminded himself, he wouldn’t. One day, he would wear his true expression. One day, these girls would all grow old and hideous and decay in their bodies. All of them would watch as he lived forever young. Maybe when they were all wrinkled, weak boned, with cataracts and sun spots, they would realize his true self in a great terrible conclusion.

Elizabeth wanted to throw up. Her morning had been going quite well. The attention was flattering, and while the cold was harsh it was at least refreshing. The excitement from the impending quidditch match held above all else. Until there was Tom Riddle. He never failed to unsettle her. Or ruin a good time.

The trip to Diagon Alley when she first got her guitar. Her train ride to Hogwarts. Trying to find her way around the castle. Settling into her classes. Getting bullied by Slytherin girls. Her first trip to Hogsmeade.

They were all tainted, ruined memories. Tainted by him. He never. failed. to ruin everything.

And now, her first quidditch match. It was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be carefree and youthful. Saoirse was practically drooling, and the rest of her friends (even Terra), weren’t doing much better.

The boys finally caught up with them from the rear. To her horror, they greeted Tom happily. Even Anthony and Declan smiled at him. How far did his manipulation run in this school? Clearly very deeply, if even Gryffindors liked him and practically begged for his company. They all made their way toward the pitch. Everybody seemed to be trying their best to get as close to Tom as possible. To speak to him, or say something funny, or garner a moment of his attention. Elizabeth fell to the back, falling into step with Anthony, who at the very least wasn’t doing the utter most to please her mortal enemy.

”Are you okay?” Anthony asked in a low voice. She turned to him in surprise. She had been careful to school her expression into pleasant neutrality. But Anthony was quite good at reading people. Not Tom, though. Nobody seemed to be good at reading him. Nobody but Dumbledore, or her.

“Just cold. You? Are you excited for the match?” Elizabeth asked, hoping he’d carry the majority of the conversation. Anthony, as always, wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

”I hate the cold.” He sounded a bit passionate about it.

Elizabeth had to concur, with a short laugh. “I agree. I’m not used to this.”

”I never got used to it. Just got really good at warming charms.” Anthony responded, his robes wrapped tightly around him like a black vampire. His skin was so pale his freckles stood out starkly. He looked a bit like a young Snape in this light, if Snape was a bit more handsome than described in the books. Now that she thought it, she couldn’t get rid of the thought.

She laughed, and said, “I don’t think I'll get used to it either.”

The sound of Aliena’s laughter behind Tom was tantalizing enough to turn around and look for the source. He caught sight of her walking with that sickly looking boy Anthony Oakwood. But Tom was deep within this hord of questions and answers and couldn't possibly remove himself. The Gryffindor’s adoring attention was never failing, and far more outwardly passionate than the subtlety of Slytherin that he was used to. He continued up the never ending stairs, answering questions and agreeing with opinions and laughing kindly at dreadful jokes. He didn’t fit in here at all, but none of them seemed to notice or care. They finally reached the top, surrounded by red and gold and a loud roar of the crowds conversation.

”Here, this is where we sit.” Saoirse said, grabbing Tom’s arm in a manner that only a brash Gryffindor would dare to do. Tom was trying to play nice, so he allowed it. Under any other circumstances, he would have found a charming way to politely decline her touch.

”Move.” Saoirse said strictly to a group of younger years. They immediately shifted to the side.

“No, up there. This is the sixth year section.” Michael said firmly, if not a bit territorial. The presumable first years squeaked and made their way up the stairs. Perhaps they weren’t so different from Slytherins in some ways.

They stood at the second row of seats. The only other row in front of them was occupied by seventh years. So even these chaotic saps had some sort of hierarchy.

Good.

There were some Ravenclaws mixed into the group, but not much. “This tower normally for Gryffindors and their friends,” Michael said, as if this was something Tom should preen at.

“Thank you for including me,” Tom said corrigally.

”Of course!” Berniece said. She was particularly done up, wearing red face paint and holding a sign that read ‘Weasley Number One’ on it.

Tom could picture what his followers would say at the sight of him there. He almost laughed at the idea. Tom noticed how Aliena stood off to the side, near that scrawny quiet dark haired boy at the end. Well that wouldn’t do.

“Would anybody like some refreshments before the match? I forgot to grab some before we came up.” Tom offered. The girls started babbling in that annoying way in which they talked over each other and finished their own sentences. Tom thought it barbaric, but it was easy to endure if it meant he could somehow weasel himself closer into Aliena’s circle. To his inward shock, they actually gave him their requests. Tom had said it as a formality. Of course. He couldn’t stand them as he marched down the steps toward the concessions. 

Tom had just finished his purchase, barely scraping out enough knuts to pay for it, when he turned. Aliena was leaning against a wooden frame of the stands with arms crossed and a blank expression. She looked right at him. Tom’s arms were full of bottles of pumpkin juice and water and he approached her. She spoke before he even had the chance.

“Why are you here?” She asked. It was so aloof sounding that if he didn’t know better, he would have thought her simply curious.

”Whatever do you mean?” Tom responded. He could feel the smile reaching his lips, too natural to be faked.

”I told you to leave me alone.” Elizabeth said.

“I have.” Tom said simply.

”You call this leaving me alone?” Elizabeth bit out. Surprisingly, she grabbed his arm and tugged him underneath the wooden structure of the stands behind the great tapestry, away from watchful eyes. Both Tom and Aliena were popular in their own right. Even the sight of them speaking to one another was enough to cause heads to turn.

The light under here was hazy orange from the red and gold of the tapestry. Tom watched her carefully. Her expression was giving her away. She was annoyed, if not angry. This delighted Tom. 

”I was invited,” Tom reasoned simply. Elizabeth sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. What was she supposed to do in this situation? She came down here with the intention of telling him to lay off her friends, but would he? If she knew anything about his character, he would probably do the opposite of anything she said. Instead…

“Do you have a crush on me or something?” She demanded. Perhaps putting him off was the best strategy. Make him repulsed and embarrassed. Tom Riddle would never have a crush— he didn’t have the capability. She knew that. Even the idea would disgust him.

“And if I do?” Tom retorted softly, but his voice was dark and penetratingly slow.

This was all too reminiscent of their talk at Hogsmeade.

Elizabeth scoffed, sending Tom’s mind reeling. “Of course you don’t…,” she said in frustration.

How did she know?, Tom thought. ”Did Abraxas ask you to keep an eye on me or something?” Elizabeth followed.

Tom was almost annoyed at that. ”No.” he said firmly.

“Then why are you here?” Elizabeth asked. She glared up at him shamelessly now, pretense be damned.

”Edward and Harvey wanted me to watch their match.” Tom responded. 

She hated how he used their first names. In her old life it may have been normal, but here it was too familiar. ”That’s a bullshit reason.”

”Why so?”

”Do you even like quidditch?” she questioned.

She was always hitting the nail on the head. How did she manage it? ”Not particularly,” Tom said. No point in lying when she presumably saw right through him.

”Stop dancing around.” Elizabeth said in clear frustration.

Tom watched her for a long moment, which only made her squirm more. He reveled in it.

”I like to dance.” Tom responded back, as if this was reason enough. Elizabeth wanted to shake him by the shoulders. But when she looked in his eyes again she noticed that small sliver near the edge of his face. The shadow of an edge. A mask hidden in plain sight. Like the hidden kiss from Peter Pan, Tom had a hidden mask. Always taunting her. Always too high up to rip off.

”Alright,” Elizabeth gave in, leaning against a diagonal stretch of wood as she crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

”Hm?” Tom questioned in a similar fashion that Aliena always did, which he hated. It unfortunately didn’t seem to piss her off the same way it did to him.

”What can I do to get you to leave me and my friends alone?” She asked quickly and simply. Outright. Blunt. Tom liked it, despite himself.

She was brave. He’d never thought that trait to be so attractive before. In fact, he'd always hated it. 

Tom mused for a brief second, and said, “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.” 

”Think about it now.” She demanded.

Tom hummed again noncommittally.

“Is this because I said no to going to Hogsmeade with you?” She asked.

Tom leaned his head forward, looking at her wryly. That look could have said anything in the world.

”If your in love with me then just declare it now and we can be done with this.” Elizabeth said, both knowing he wasn’t in love with her and implying that she would reject him. She was trying to catch him off guard, or at the very least anger him enough to get him to start telling the truth.

With anyone else she wouldn’t have made such brazen assumptions. But it was Tom, of all people, and she didn’t really care.

”But I do enjoy a good dance.” Tom said again, and side-stepped past her through the gap in the fabric. Elizabeth glared at the place he had left and let out a frustrated huff. After a few moments of calming breaths, she made her way back up in his tracks.

When Elizabeth finally reached her friends they were all gathered around Tom with their bottled drinks in hand, attempting to garner his attention again. He was laughing. He was laughing, and he actually looked happy.

Elizabeth could kill him.

”Woah,” Declan said at the sight of her expression.

”What?” Elizabeth bit out in an unusually savage tone.

“Nothing.” Declan said, non-confrontational as ever, raising his hands in innocence and turning back to the group.

“Whoo!” Conor exclaimed, picking Elizabeth up in a bear hug by the waist so her entire torso was above his head. He didn't seem to have noticed her foul mood at all. He was laughing, and horseplay was no stranger to Conor Sullivan. Declan and Conor couldn’t be more opposite.

If Elizabeth was in a better mood she may have laughed and swatted him friendly. But everyone had turned to watch Conor’s tirade of joy, and she rolled her eyes and started ruffling his hair harshly. Conor began to howl, setting her back down. “So harsh, Greenie.” He’d invented many nicknames for her that never stuck. When she was on her feet, she ruffled his hair more and he tried to escape, grabbing her wrist and twisting his head away and around with laughter. The sound of her friends joining in in his joy was enough to ease some of that lingering frustration Elizabeth had.

”Are you always so… friendly?” Tom said. It was bland.

”Er,—,” Conor said, flushing in emabrassment, and the girls sprung to say, “Yes, of course!”

”We’ve been friends for so long, there’s hardly anything hidden between us.”

Elizabeth shifted. She hadn’t been friends with them for “so long”. She had just met them two months ago. And yet she’d fallen into step with them so quickly it was natural. In front of Tom though she was almost embarrassed. It felt now as if she was playing a part that didn’t quite belong. An understudy trying to fit in.

“It’s a bit refreshing…,” Tom quickly said and trailed off. He played the perfect picture of a Slytherin not used to such brazen familiarity and horseplay. Elizabeth’s friends found it endearing, to her disappointment. 

Conor found this to be a que to wrap his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder and pull her in with joy. ”Aliena is a brilliant sport!”

They all agreed, turning to Tom to wait for his reaction with hope. Tom smiled gently and nodded. They all were well-pleased. But when they looked away, Elizabeth caught Tom's eye. Within it, that hidden darkness flared and his smile faltered so slightly it was almost indistinguishable. Her stomach tipped. For a moment her mind faltered. Was he actually in love with her?

No, she scolded herself. That was impossible and a very stupid thing to think. He clearly thought them to be unkempt fools. The following conclusion that he was in fact just judging them all for their comradery was worse, and Elizabeth tried not to bristle.

While Elizabeth had been enraptured in her own thoughts, the conversation took a turn for the worse. About how Tom and Aliena were great friends. Tom was way too eager to agree. ”Yes, Aliena and I actually sat together on the train ride to Hogwarts,” he endeared. They all looked to her expectantly, and now she was standing next to Tom, with expectant gazes all around. If it was anybody else, she would have made some sort of great escape. They all knew how opposed she was to Tom being there in the first place, but they were doing their best to convince her otherwise. Were they trying to make her see their way, now? Trying to prove Tom was as good of company as they expected?

Elizabeth had no choice but to submit. This was all too much to answer to. If she acted hostile toward him in front of her friends, she’d have to answer to it later. Especially if Tom acted the innocent victim, which he most certainly would. If she could just act civil then she could noncommittally agree to their opinions and avoid any attempts to convince her otherwise.

Tom was too good at manipulation for her to compete. Even among her friends. She wished they would just believe her opinions without question. Perhaps they didn’t know her long enough. Or perhaps… Perhaps they just liked Tom more? If Tom were a Gryffindor… Elizabeth didn’t want to think about it.

Finally, Elizabeth spoke. “Yes, we met a few times before that as well.”

”Before school?”

”When?!”

”At Malfoy Manor…,” Elizabeth said, and they all watched her with great interest, “and Diagon Alley.”

”I am good friends with her cousin,” Tom reasoned.

”At Malfoy Manor-?” one of the girls began to inquire.

”The midsummer ball.” Tom explained.

”How lovely!” The girls began to demand they be invited to the next one.

Elizabeth nodded and almost agreed, but Tom stepped in. “The Malfoys are a bit strict. You’d have to ask permission, would you not Aliena?”

Elizabeth hesitated, but submitted. Because, she realized, Tom was right. “…Yes, I suppose so. It’s a bit different than what I’m used to…,” She trailed off. The girls deflated slightly but still fervently discussed the idea of visiting over summer and how each of them normally spent their holidays. Each one was trying to get in good bragging words, trying to show off to Tom in youthful self-flattery.

A voice boomed over the noise. Everyone quieted.

“Welcome to the first quidditch match of 1943!” Elizabeth recognized it immediately to be Dumbledore’s, and smiled.

Cheers sounded all around them, and everybody’s attention gathered toward the center. In a blooming blur of color, players flew out from holes at the bottom of the grassy pitch. They flew so fast, Elizabeth could only catch sight of them when they paused for a moment to wave to the crowd as they cheered. Two particular players colored in red paused at their stand, raising their hands in the air and causing more cheers. Beatrice held up her sign and screamed like a madwoman. She rather fit into the crowd of derangement that was the Gryffindor students cheering. It was Edward and Harvey, one with a blur of red hair and the other with black. Harvey even got close enough to point directly at Beatrice. She sent him an air kiss, and he pretended to catch it to his chest, and fall in a dangerous and flamboyant drop down toward the center of the pitch. The crowd went wild, and Elizabeth couldn’t help herself in joining in.

She had forgotten all about Tom when the quaffle down below was thrown into the air and the match began. She was whooping and hollering along with the rest, and leaning forward expectantly to try and catch sight of the game. 

Tom cheered here and there out of strict compliance to his situation, but stopped quickly and instead stood back to watch the other students going berserk. He glanced over to find them all enraptured in the match. Aliena stood among them, fitting in far too well for his taste. She was standing directly at his side. He couldn’t help himself from leaning back a bit just to inconspicuously observe her.

She, like all Gryffindors, was far too passionate for her own good. She screamed when she should, though it didn’t seem she understood the game quite as well as the rest so her cheers were slightly delayed. Still, there was a brightness in her eyes. That telling flush to her cheeks. Her scarf falling a bit astray.

“It’s going well, so far,” A voice said to Tom’s side. He looked over, and Saoirse was leaning toward him in expectation.

“Er, yes. It is,” Tom said, feeling a bit caught but not showing it. He turned back to the match and tried to watch. It was difficult, since he hated this game so much. Even the sight of watching bludgers being whacked straight toward players while they were so high up in the air made him a bit nauseous.

The Gryffindor team played riskily. Too riskily. One of the chasers was knicked in the shoulder and spun down in the air, barely catching himself before he crashed into the ground. The Hufflepuffs worked too well together. They passed the quaffle to one another and danced around the Gryffindor players with their deft teamwork. If the Gryffindor keeper wasn’t so good they may have lost from the sheer amount of shots Hufflepuff had over them.

Harvey was a beater, and he was brutal. Such a beefy force to be reckoned with, and shouting orders to his teammates nobody could hear from the stands.

It would have to come down to catching the snitch. And just as Elizabeth thought that, a blur of red dove from high above. The Hufflepuff was down near the field, and took notice too late. Edward was winding through the hoops poles to chase after something nobody in the stands could see. Everybody cheered anyhow, shouting until their voices were hoarse.

A moment later, not even forty five minutes after the match began, Edward was slowly swirling around overhead holding a golden ball in his hand that sometimes shone in the light enough to be visible.

The announcer called an end to the match, and the stands went wild.

Elizabeth watched as the players slowly met on the grass, gathering together as they lifted Edward onto their shoulders. Everybody was cheering a chant Elizabeth didn’t know, but which she quickly learned.

“Spen-cer knicked it,

Spen-cer ticked it,

Spen-cer can’t be tricked or slipped!

Piiiick it…

Sniiitch it!

Pick it, Snitch it!” It ended with a large and deep ‘whomp’ outcry, and then began over and over again.

It was a taunting, strange sort of cheer- surely one that had more background that Elizabeth didn’t know- but she sang along nonetheless.

When they descended from the stands, students were still chanting haphazardly, sometimes adding their own words or renditions. “PISS PISS PISS!” had caught on by they time they reached the ground, and Elizabeth had almost totally forgotten about Tom’s imposing presence. Until she caught his eye as he stood near the back of their group in a much more subdued manner than the rest.

Tom almost never looked away from her first. Elizabeth always did. And she was all too eager now to do so now.

To her utter surprise, students around her began shouting her name and calling out to her. It seemed the rowdiness of the win was stuck, and both Declan and Conor lifted her onto their shoulders. The girls cheered and hopped around gleefully looking up at her with outstretched hands. Aliena hadn’t even done anything, but her popularity was rearing a head of it’s own as she was swept up into the celebrations as they begged her to sing. She reached back, and held hands briefly with each of the girls as they laughed and shouted too.

In a loud voice, Michael called, “A song of celebration in the Gryffindor common room!” The cry took on a world of its own, and Elizabeth held firmly onto the boys shoulders as they pushed forward, feeling as if she could fall off at any moment. The shouts about a party were now overwhelming. Aliena’s prospective singing spread among Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and even stray Slytherins and Hufflepuffs alike.

There was movement of a gathering crowd ahead. A small group of scarlet robed students covered in dirt and sweat had a thick crowd of students surrounding them. Elizabeth spotted somebody else among the crowd simply based upon the fact that he was the only other person hoisted and being carried on the other’s shoulders. Edward.

The Gryffindor team had spilled out into the crowd of flooding students as they made their way back to the castle and everybody gathered around them. Elizabeth caught Edward’s laughing face, and he caught her bewildered one in return. He laughed harder, shouting, “Aliena! We won!”

The crowd was too thick, and the Gryffindor quidditch team was making their way back to the locker rooms. Aliena finally twisted out of the grasp of her friends. Anthony, looking rather sympathetic, helped her down by her waist while Gaia and Berniece held her hands and she hopped back down onto the floor. Elizabeth reared on Connor and Declan while they continued to press forward with the surge of the crowd.

”You turds!” she shouted. They laughed back. Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. But they'd gotten to Gaia now and were lifting her into the air. Natasha was being piggy-backed by Michael, who ran around and pretended to drop her so that she shrieked in delight. She felt rather numb in the face from smiling so much, hoarse in the throat from shouting, and elated with happiness all throughout her body. She was so exhilarated that she didn’t even mind when she overheard the vehement incitement of her friends behind her convincing Tom to attend the party in the Gryffindor common room.

She couldn’t even be miffed when she heard Tom’s humble agreement.

Nothing at all, not even Tom, could ruin this.

Tom could in fact ruin many things. Even private meetings in which he was not welcome. Or at least, he was not welcome to Elizabeth.

In her friends “good” opinion, he was.

The girls had immediately made a beeline for their own dorm, and the boys diverted to theirs. While in the privacy of their room, the girls gushed about how amazing Tom was and how they wished they had a chance with him.

”Just one night is all I need. One night an I can make him mine,” Saoirse claimed, as she laid on her makeup well. They were so rushed with delight and a passion to return that they hadn’t even wanted to shower or change clothings, only “touch themselves up”.

Elizabeth sat on her bed and tried to blend in with Artemis curled in her lap and begging for pets.

Blending in didn’t go well for her lately. ”So, what are you gonna sing? It has to be good,” Terra said passionately as she took down the pins from her hair to try and re-do it.

“Yes! Make it romantic!” Gaia exclaimed. They were all sitting at their own vanities, breathing heavily still from the rush that had taken them there.

”Make it revolutionary!” Beatrice called from the bathroom as she washed off her face paint in the sink.

”I’ll do my best,” Elizabeth claimed. She sounded calm, but her mind was racing with too many things to sort.

”The matches can be a bit overwhelming,” Natasha said sympathetically as she brushed through her long black hair.

”It was incredible,” Elizabeth responded passionately.

All of the girls agreed with this, as they talked over one another about the brilliance of quidditch and the fun of the matches. Elizabeth found she’d grown fluent in the language that was these girls, and even joined in herself. They talked quickly and over the end of one another’s sentences and held multiple conversations at the same time. The girls gushed over Tom, and Harvey, and Edward. They occasionally asked for opinions on their hair or outfits or makeup in between.

Elizabeth went to the washroom and splashed fresh water over her face and wiped it down with a cloth. She thought better of trying to put on makeup or do up her hair. She was busy enough assuring and reassuring and reassuring over again of each of the girl’s choices of hair and outfit. Some groaned when others decided to change, and then everybody was changing, until they were pushing one another out the door.

They all looked beautiful and ready for a party. Elizabeth had taken off her outer robes and scarf and sprayed on perfume, but otherwise was still wearing the same clothes and hair and bare face that she’d had at the match.

They rushed over, not toward the common room already bustling with the beginnings of a party, but to the boy's dorm steps and knocked on the door. Without even a call from inside that it was alright to enter, they threw themselves in.

It was a pigsty. Even worse than the state the girls had left their own room in. Clothes all over, socks hanging on bed frames and furnace grates, ink and parchment scattered about, and trunks thrown open without a care.

Anthony was lounging on his bed, looking bored. Declan and Conor were standing before a trunk that was open and peering into it inquisitively. Michael was rooting around somewhere underneath a bed.

Only Tom seemed out of place and deeply uncomfortable. He stood near the bathroom door, and his eyes caught on them immediately.

“I don’t know if we have enough whiskey,” Conor claimed. To Elizabeth’s surprise, the girls seems to make themselves utterly at home, sitting on beds and meeting the boys’ to gaze into the open trunk.

“That’ll be enough for us. Don’t worry about everybody else,” Gaia claimed confidently.

“Ah! Found it!” Michael exclaimed, pulling out a half-empty bottle of some strange liquor Elizabeth couldn’t identify.

“Careful now,” Elizabeth said, leaning against the closed door behind her and looking straight at Tom on the opposite side of the room, “We have a prefect in our midst.”

Tom’s dark eyes locked onto Elizabeth's with an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "A prefect?" he repeated, his voice smooth and nonchalant. "I suppose we should all be on our best behavior, then.”

The group chuckled, his easy response having a calming, congenial effect on the room. If there had been any sort of apprehension about Tom’s presence before it certainly didn’t exist now. It seemed Elizabeth’s friends wanted to trust him. They wanted to and they did without trying. Without knowing the first thing about him.

Elizabeth didn’t even deign him with a response and instead sat on one of the boy's unmade beds glumly. The girls gathered around Tom or the boys, making conversation as each of them withtook flasks and began to pour the liquor into them while passing bottles around to each take swigs. Tom watched in inward disgust that didn’t reach his face. When Saoirse shyly offered him a bottle, he shook his head with an easy smile and well-fabricated excuse. Elizabeth took the one offered to her after Michael took a long sip and made a sour face of remorse afterward. She chuckled at his reaction, and said, “Do you have anything to chase it with?”

Michael looked around, and Declan tossed him an almost empty bottle of pumpkin juice, which he gave to her. She downed a short sip of the liquor, not able to swallow a full shot, and quickly followed it with a generous gulp of pumpkin juice and then shuttered her reaction afterward. Tom’s eyes followed the bottle and then trailed to her lips, but nobody noticed.

“We should get down before Eddy and Harvey get back,” Berniece said. The two boys were showering in the locker rooms as they did after every practice or match. But it was only a matter of time before they made their grand entrance into the common room along with the rest of the team.

The group slowly gathered their things, putting away the bottles and hiding flasks in their robes with practiced efficiency. Elizabeth lingered on the bed, watching as the others filed out of the room, laughing and chatting like nothing was amiss.

Tom caught her eye as he lingered at the threshold, his gaze as inscrutable as ever. “Coming, Aliena?” he asked, his voice smooth and pleasant.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, then nodded, rising from the bed. As she passed him, he smiled—polite, charming, and surely hiding something sinister deep below the surface. Elizabeth was once again reminded of how she too would most certainly be a victim of his allure if she hadn’t known any better. It left her deeply unsettled. How in the world could she help her friends? He certainly wasn’t causing any harm at the moment, but who knew what sort of nefarious plots or intentions he had in regards to them?

Trying to convince him to stay away from her friends hadn’t worked. Convincing her friends Tom was a bad person was a losing battle. What could she do?

She descended the staircase behind her friends, feeling Tom’s looming presence close behind her.

If she had to, she would put herself between him and her friends. She would do anything to stop whatever he was planning. Maybe that was his intent. Maybe he knew that was exactly what she would do. Maybe… Maybe that’s why he was doing it in the first place. Elizabeth almost shuttered, not wanting to think such a thing. No, that couldn’t possibly be it. She knew she’d certainly garnered too much attention from him. But he didn’t seem the type to go to such drastic measures as befriending Gryffindors based on nothing but surface-level suspicion.

Her display of magic and cruelty in the girls bathrooms hadn’t helped. Insulting him on the train probably wasn’t much better. And every conversation since then- in Hogsmeade and after curfew and at the match- didn’t quite make sense. What were his true ambitions? If only she could just read his mind…

But… No. She couldn’t. Legilimency was difficult magic to learn, and Elizabeth was sure she would need a proper teacher in order to actually perfect it. Tom didn’t have a teacher, not as far as she knew. But she didn’t know, not at all. And she didn’t quite know if he’d ever attempted to use that sort of magic on her. He was bound to do it sometime. After all Tom's legilimency was infamous.

Her thoughts were racing now about the possibility that Tom may already have read her mind. It would explain his obnoxious interest in her. The lengths he was going to in order to gain closer access in her life. But surely if he’d done it properly, he wouldn’t have left her quite so alone… He would have already attempted to kill her for her power or torture her for her knowledge of the future.

Then again, she didn’t really know him. She only knew his character from a book. How was sixteen year old Tom Riddle in reality as compared to her perspective? She knew a great deal of things, but that couldn’t possibly compare to the reality of him. And her very presence could warp everything she knew. What if she somehow changed the timeline? What if he sought to kill her and use her soul to make himself another horcrux? Nothing could be predicted.

Tom Riddle, one of the people she knew the very most about from the books and movies she’d seen and read, was the most unpredictable of anyone she’d met in her life.

Right before she had stepped forward into the light of the common room, her arm was dragged harshly back and pushed against the wall. A body pressed flush against her’s.

”Here,” His deep, soft voice whispered. She looked up at him. He was looking around, as if trying to gauge for intruders, with one of his arms caging her in. He was one step above her, and given how he was already a good several inches taller than him on level ground, she was a good deal shorter than him. She had to tilt her chin all the way up to meet his eyes.

He was smiling deviously. She just noticed the ornate oval-shaped silver flask he held with his free hand between them. He waved it toward her a bit, in a gesture that meant ‘drink’.

She looked up at him with furrowed brows, chin nearly touching his torso and nose scrunched up. “What are you playing at?” She whispered up at him harshly.

Tom wanted to bottle that look and keep it on his shelf.

He smiled at her, and said, “Absinthe. Have some.”

“No way.” She said, pressing her fingertips to the edge and pushing it away. It didn’t go far, since they were so close.

“Come on, I haven’t poisoned it. Look,” he reasoned, pressing it to his lips and taking a short sip. He didn’t even cringe, and the smell of it was potent in the air. He waved it back at her again. She shook her head again and moved to try and duck under his arm, but he stepped down with one of his legs and effectively fully caged her in.

“This is harassment,” she said sharply.

”No it’s not. It’s encouragement.” he responded, and to her utter surprise, he tipped her chin up and pressed the bottle to her lips. The liquid touched her tongue and she sputtered.

He withtook it just as quickly, but Elizabeth was forced to swallow the liquid he’d managed to get in her mouth. She sputtered more, coughed, and cringed at the taste. She pressed her hands against his chest, attempting to push him away. But he was too strong, and in her attempt to keep the liquid down, her hands fisted the fabric of his robes and she coughed into his chest obnoxiously harshly. She still coughed when she pulled away, tears pricking at her eyes and on the verge of throwing up. She had to take manual breaths for a few long moments before the absinthe pooled in her stomach warmly and she finally felt as if she wasn’t about to puke anymore.

Tom observed this display with great revel. She was clinging onto him like a little child, her eyebrows furrowed up in an expression that was far too tantalizing to be normal. It gave a sort of bodily reaction to him— similar to the first time he’d performed magic or when he saw Myrtle Warren’s splayed body laying in a puddle of water in the second-floor girls lavatory. Or when she'd blown out the windows of that bathroom not too long ago.

He clicked the flask shut, and this seemed to snap her from her stupor. She let go of his robes and roughly shoved him away.

”Twat,” she spat at him sharply as she rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand and briskly exited into the common room’s warm glow. Tom laughed shortly, his hand covering his own mouth. He slipped the flask back into the pocket near his breast and then laughed again when he pictured that angry expression.

So cute, he thought. He staggered back when he realized what he was thinking. Cute?!

Tom’s hand over his mouth screwed to roughly grip his chin. That wasn’t normal.

He composed himself and then stepped into the light.

Elizabeth had made her way around the room. Students milled about the center of the space. Fireworks of some sort were dancing around the ceiling in the air, and some people shrieked with delight in a corner as one of them popped loudly. There was cheerful music from a record sounding from somewhere. Elizabeth had spotted her friends all standing on top of a sofa— shoes on with absolutely no regard for decorum. Michael and Conor had taken their red and gold ties and tied them around their heads. Conor was trying to do the same to Anthony, who was swatting him away and Michael was cheering them on, openly waving his flask around. Terra scolded him and he hid his flask, surprised to be caught as if he wasn’t being the most obvious in the world.

“There you are!” Saoirse called when she saw Elizabeth, waving her over. She met her crowd of friends, talking loudly over the thrum of voices and music. Tom, apparently, wasn’t far behind her, because he heard them greet him with more subdued softness than they’d greeted her.

Elizabeth decided to step up onto the sofa, squeezing in with the boys if just to get away from Tom. The boys cheered and wound their arms around her shoulders— Michael on her left and Declan on her right.

From her view, Elizabeth could spot the portrait hole opening, and the room erupted into loud hoots and whistles as each member of the quidditch team entered.

The team were all boys. Elizabeth had asked Terra about it during one of the chilly practices they’d dragged her up to watch. Terra explained bitterly that girls were hardly given the same chances that boys were when it came to quidditch. Elizabeth thought this pretty ironic, since some of the best quidditch players on the Gryffindor team mentioned in the Harry Potter books were girls. Not one female had even came to try outs, so the sentiment must be a mutual understanding of the culture of this time.

As Edward and Spencer entered, taking up the rear arm-in-arm like a man and woman would, the crowd roared. They came in to the center and the people on the floor circled out to give them room. Harvey bowed and so did Edward— first to the crowd and then to one another. Then, Elizabeth erupted into laughter when they met each other’s hands and began to tango very poorly. The entire room responded brilliantly.

“They do this every time we win!” Gaia explained over the noise with a laugh as she looked up at Elizabeth. Elizabeth beamed down at her, clapping her hands along with the crowd. They finally finished when Edward dipped Harvey deeply and the two tumbled to the floor with Harvey’s weight.

Some students from the crowd rushed forward to lift them to their feet, and they melted into the crowd just as the other quidditch players had. The boys began to roughly rub Harvey and Edward's hair-- still wet from the showers. Elizabeth almost toppled off the couch with the boys roughhousing. Berniece caught her, and Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her friend as they giggled. Berniece even took the bravato of spinning Elizabeth and dipping her in the same manner Harvey and Edward had. They all laughed. But Elizabeth and Berniece slowly started to tip over, and Edward deftly scooped up Elizabeth before they toppled to the floor. He let her slide back down onto her feet and she thanked him while she steadied herself as she held his forearms. He was glowing, his dark blue eyes sparkling in the warm light.

Tom leaned down and whispered something to Gaia, and Gaia immediately cut in. Elizabeth quickly with took herself, realizing how it may look. Tom watched, whatever had twisted in his stomach slowly unraveling.

“Beautiful match, Spencer!” Gaia exclaimed happily. Edward glanced at her sideways, a bit miffed. “Thanks, Lavender.”

Harvey pulled apart from Berniece, who he was openly snogging quite obnoxiously. She looked breathless, holding one hand to his chest with his arm wrapped around her waist.

“How’d it go, Riddle? Better than you expected?” Harvey sounded eager to hear Tom’s response. And so did everybody else, it seemed. As always.

”Great flying, I will say. Quick game too, Edward,” he commented, sending a congratulatory look toward Edward. He grinned and nodded, stepping forward to start talking about boring things like strategy and play-by-plays of the game. The boys and girls all leaned forward to listen, but Elizabeth hung back a bit. She didn’t really care for such topics. Tom didn’t seem to either, and he caught her eye. She felt quite smug to find that he was probably trapped in a conversation he didn’t enjoy.

A voice sounded behind her— a third year girl who Elizabeth had conversed with in passing. ”Are you going to sing, Aliena?”

Her friends caught wind of this, and began to encourage her in that overwhelming way they always operated on. The rumor spread like lightning, and faces were turning toward her. Voices quieted and encouraged. Her name murmured among the crowd here and there. Someone removed the record from the player.

Elizabeth sighed and nodded, and her friends cheered and patted her on the back. The girls, who had apparently thought a strategy through, led her to a front area of the room and cleared it out, pushing together coffee tables to make a makeshift stage. They practically shoved Elizabeth up onto it. She turned back toward the crowd, and saw all the smiles and expectant faces of her friends and housemates. There were even many students that Elizabeth recognized from each of the different houses.

Tom was the only Slytherin in sixth year among them. He opened his robes, and a flash of silver shined from within a hidden pocket.

He smirked, and tapped his wand to the flask. It hit her all at once.

Elizabeth was thrown into a warm, golden haze where the edges of reality were soft but nothing was lost. Everything seemed lighter. More forgiving and bright. Whatever tension she had drifted away into easy confidence. Her friend's smiling faces and encouraging shouts were more precious and beautiful. She met Tom’s eye again, and his glazed face with that small smile told her one thing— he felt the exact same way. It was the perfect drunk. Not too much, not too little. The absinthe was somehow magical, and this was the result. Elizabeth couldn’t stop her own grin. Oh, the brilliance of magic.

Elizabeth withtook her wand from her robes and said, “Accio, guitar!”

A short moment later, her silver gibson swooped in from the stairwell. Students ducked out of the way in the knick of time and it met her outstretched hand perfectly. The crowd bellowed and clapped. Elizabeth put on the strap and strummed shortly, tuning as she walked across the top of the coffee tables. Her voice wasn’t projected, but the student’s voices were hushed and they quieted to hold onto her words when she spoke.

”Well how are we doing tonight?” She asked the crowd. They all cheered. She beamed back as she continued to tune. ”I believe we have some celebration in order. Where’s our quidditch team?” She asked. Groups of students hollered, roughed up hair, waved toward their friends. Harvey and Edward in particular were pounded on the back. Harvey himself cheered loudly and thrusted two waving fists in the air.

By the end of the cheering, she’d finished tuning her guitar.

“To our friends in red. This is for you,” she said, and began to sing.

The song was slow here and there but overall rapturous. As she reached the chorus, playing deftly on her guitar in a complicated way that the crowd marveled at, she encouraged the crowd to sing along with her. They caught onto the lyrics quickly, and began to shout them along with her in voices raised as one.

By the end, everybody was raising their glasses and singing along so loudly the room thrummed with the voices. Elizabeth bowed deeply with the applause, took off her guitar, and leaned it against the stone wall. When they continued to cheer, she curtsied deeply, and hopped off to finally return to her friends.

The music from a stray gramophone resumed in a lively swing. Some students paired off and began to dance in the open center.

Gaia pulled her into a tight embrace. “You were brilliant!” she said, her voice breathless with excitement.

“Absolutely amazing,” Saoirse chimed in, grinning widely as she held a glass of some concoction Elizabeth couldn't quite identify, and handed one to Elizabeth. “You had the whole room captivated.”

Elizabeth took a small sip, feeling the lingering effects of the absinthe still humming pleasantly through her veins. "Thanks," she murmured, trying to shake off the flush of pride she felt. “But I think Harvey and Edward deserve the spotlight tonight.”

“Maybe,” Saoirse conceded, glancing over at Harvey, who was now being cheered on by a group of younger students, “but you’ve got some serious talent, you know?”

Elizabeth shrugged, taking a sip of the drink. It was sweet and sharp, with just enough kick to keep the buzz going. “I just play for fun.”

“And yet,” Berniece chimed in, appearing at her side, “you had the whole room singing along like we were at a concert.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flicked toward Tom once more, still sensing his gaze on her. It was hard to shake the feeling that he was always watching, always analyzing. He wasn’t like the rest of them. He didn’t get swept up in the joy of the moment, didn’t let himself get carried away. It made him distant, calculating. In that way that was obvious to her but nobody else noticed.

But there was no room for any more overthinking tonight. She was determined not to let him get to her. The music from the gramophone picked up again into a different song, and this time it was something upbeat and fast-paced. Students grabbed partners, and soon the center of the common room was filled with spinning figures, the energy infectious.

Gaia reached for Elizabeth’s hand again. “Come on, you’re not getting out of it!”

Elizabeth laughed, allowing herself to be dragged into the center dancefloor. The carefree energy of the night swept her up. She spun with Gaia, their laughter blending with the music as they joined the growing crowd of students celebrating their victory.

For a while, Elizabeth lost herself in the chaos of it all. The music, the warmth of the fire, the gleaming smiles of her friends—it was everything Gryffindor represented. Bravery, boldness, and an unrelenting love for life.

As the song ended and the room burst into applause before the next song began, Elizabeth caught her breath, cheeks flushed from the exertion. She glanced around and saw Tom still in the same spot, his face calm and detached from the lively scene around him.

And then, without warning, he made his way over to her, weaving through the crowd with that same unsettling grace.

“You’re quite the performer,” he said, his voice smooth as ever, though there was a challenge in his words. People began dancing around them. 

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, still catching her breath. “I was just having fun.”

“Fun,” he echoed, tilting his head slightly. “It’s interesting how easily people are won over with a little music, a little charm.”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, feeling a prick of irritation. “I don’t need charm to win people over, Tom.”

“No,” he agreed, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long. “But it certainly doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Before she could respond, Harvey called over the crowd, all smiles and cheers. “Oi, Tom! We were just about to break out another round. You in?”

Tom smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “No, thank you. I think I’ll pass.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel like his refusal wasn’t just about the alcohol. He didn’t belong here, not in the same way the rest of them did. And yet, for some reason, he stayed.

“That absinthe was certainly something,” Elizabeth commented. She couldn’t help but feel eyes on the two of them. Saoirse in particular was starting at them curiously. Tom didn’t care, even as they stood in the middle of a dancefloor— not dancing. Elizabeth subtly walked out toward the edge, and Tom closely followed. He leaned toward her in an off-putting way that led other students to avoid them instead of approach and compliment her the way they’d been doing earlier.

“It wasn’t the absinthe,” Tom said, “It was the flask.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help herself. As much as she disliked small talk with Tom of all people, she wanted to know where it was from. If only to get one for herself. "Where did you get it?"

”A shop you’ve never heard of.” Tom countered.

“I may have. Try me,” even though she was sure she probably wouldn’t if it was so obscure. Elizabeth wasn’t allowed out much.

”Borgin and Burkes.”

Elizabeth’s mouth soured.

“So you have heard of it,” Tom countered with a raised brow.

”You forget who I’m related to.” She swiftly said. She was getting better and better at covering things up. Abraxas had never actually told her about it, but she knew it well. She knew Tom himself would work there, in due time. If the timeline hadn't yet changed. He would accumulate precious artifacts along the way. Some he would later turn into…

”So what kind of curse do I have on me now? Have I just shed ten years off my life?” Elizabeth accused lowly.

Tom chuckled. “I hear it gives nasty hangovers,” he responded.

”You hear?! You’ve never used it before?” She felt foolish. This stupid flask could be her downfall.

“I have. I don’t get hangovers.” He countered in amusement. Of course he doesn’t, perfect prat. She huffed and crossed her arms, turning back to watch the dancing crowd. She occasionally caught the faces of her friends, their eyes lingering on Elizabeth and Tom and whispering to one another.

Great.

She swiftly excused herself to return her guitar back to her dorm.

When she returned from her dorm Tom was gone. She found out from one of her friends that he left after only expressing farewells to Edward and a couple of the other boys. ”The old irish goodbye,” Elizabeth said, sounding suspiciously cheerful.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Saoirse asked, her own Irish accent coming out thicker whenever she drank. The girls all laughed,

“Oh come on, lighten up. It isn’t personal, just a turn of phrase,” Terra reasoned.

As the night carried on, the common room’s energy ebbed and flowed. More drinks were passed around, more songs were sung, and slowly the students began to fade away, retreating to their dormitories. Elizabeth stayed close to her friends but her mind kept drifting back to Tom’s words and that strange look in his eyes. His proximity as he pinned her in the stairwell. 

By the time the party began to wind down, Elizabeth found herself standing near the window, staring out at the quiet grounds. The haze of the absinthe had long since faded, leaving her with a more overt drunkenness from the other alcohol she consumed.

“Quite the night,” Gaia said softly, joining her at the window.

“Yeah,” Elizabeth replied, her voice distant. She glanced back toward the room. The quietness of a party on the verge of death.

“Something on your mind?” Gaia asked, her tone concerned.

Elizabeth shook her head, forcing a smile. “No. Just... thinking.”

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Something about Tom, about tonight, about the way he lingered on the edges of her life—it all felt like a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve.

Gaia, sensing her mood, gave her a comforting nudge. “Come on, let’s head upstairs. We’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Elizabeth nodded, letting her friend lead her away from the window.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth was beginning to underestimate the schooling of Hogwarts. 

Of course, it wasn’t difficult to take her studies seriously. Studying magic was so interesting that she looked forward to studying in a way she hadn't in her entire life. It also wasn’t difficult at all to excel in practical courses, such as charms or defense against the dark arts, given her deeply set magical prowess. 

But this? This was impossible. 

Her potions abilities had swiftly fallen off from the first class. If it weren't’ for Edward being a helpful deskmate, she surely would have failed. Slughorn seemed to be deeply disappointed at this, but Wulfric Mulciber and Rodrick Lestrange found a sick pleasure in teasing her. They never did it overtly, of course, but she could feel it in their stares and hushed laughter. It was a jarring flip from how they’d been during that short period Tom had surely ordered them to try and charm their way closer to her. 

Tom also seemed to take great pleasure in being top of the class again, though he never showed it. Instead he would turn around and “help” her with infuriating pointers that felt more condescending than anything. 

At least Abraxas treated her the same as ever. Of course, the same as ever was severe judgmental looks and occasional hushed questions about her friends and overall behavior. 

She almost felt bad for him here and there, the way he chased after her in the corridors, or tried to discreetly pull her to the side to have private discussions. She normally ignored or avoided him. Now, she was slowly unravelling to those looks of worry. His worry wasn’t the same as other people's, of course… In a strange way, Elizabeth didn’t mind. It reminded her of family. A feeling she clung to in a morbid mourning of her past life lost. 

Even if his attentiveness was for the selfish purpose of keeping her in line for the family’s sake. 

The hangover Tom spoke of was no joke. Even two days later, walking into the stuffy pungent potions classroom made her nauseous. It was enough to decide she would never drink from that sort of flask again.

Edward was more friendly than ever with Tom after the match and following party in the Gryffindor common room. He stood in Elizabeth’s place at the table when she finally entered in the knick of time, speaking to Tom animatedly. Abraxas turned when he saw his cousin slip into Edward’s stool. 
”Are you alright?” he asked, baffled at her appearance. She looked sickly that morning when getting dressed, and had slept in through breakfast. 

“No.” She murmured, resting her forehead on her crossed arms over the desk. 

“What’s happened?” Abraxas whispered, concern laced deeply in his tone. 
She almost wanted to smile at that. 
”Hungover.” She whispered back. Abraxas leaned back and sneered. He quickly turned back to the front, and then a moment later decided better and turned back just as quickly. 
”I told you-- your friends are a bad influence,” he hissed into her ear. He said it quietly so Edward couldn’t hear. Edward was too entranced in his conversation with Tom to notice or care. Elizabeth turned her head to the side as she continued to rest it on her arm, and her nose brushed against Abraxas’ ear. “Your friend is the worst influence.” 

Abraxas stood up straight with his hand on his ear as if burned. He was lit up scarlet. He was very easy to blush, Elizabeth learned. She’d grown so used to it that she had stopped attempting to decipher the reasons for it, amounting it to the paleness of his complexion. She turned her forehead back to rest her eyes in the dark of the crook of her elbow. 
”Who?” Abraxas hissed again in her ear, even lower this time. 
”Mmm,” she groaned deeply. It seemed she didn’t even have to say his name, Abraxas garnered her meaning. 

“Tom?” he whispered in shock. 
”Mm.” Elizabeth hummed in short confirmation. 
”Why were you with him?” Abraxas whispered in french. Elizabeth peeked her eyes up, glancing over. Tom was looking at Edward, but she could feel him watching them out of the corner of his eye. In the same way she always felt his gaze. 
”Does he not speak French?” She whispered back. Abraxas shook his head. She smiled, and glanced smugly back over at Tom. He still didn’t look at her. 
”He’s set on infiltrating my life. Always trying to be friends. You should know that, Abraxas.” She said, allowing her voice to carry just-enough. Tom stiffened. 

Abraxas said nothing, which said everything.

“Tell me, what does he want with me?” she questioned quietly. 

Abraxas leaned back with a pinched expression. He wasn’t going to tell her. Fine. She didn’t expect him to. 

“Salaud,” she muttered to him in french. 
”Putain” he whispered back harshly. 

“You speak french, Malfoy?” Edward’s voice cut in, also in french. Edward seemed to ignore the profanities Abraxas and Elizabeth were throwing at each other. The two cousins looked over to find Tom was looking at them now, and Edward was in turn watching curiously. Abraxas flushed again, probably upset being caught speaking to a girl so vulgarly. 

Edward didn’t even bat an eye, though. 

Edward was from a well-renowned muggle family. His father was a proper English baron, from what Elizabeth had learned, and him being a wizard came as a great shock to all. Being a muggleborn wizard from such a well renowned family probably was a horrible surprise to them, but Edward never showed it. His well-breeding still allowed him such things as fluency in some modern languages, and even some proficiency in Latin. 

In the muggle world, his nobility was first rate. But in the wizarding world it didn’t take him very far. 

“Of course I speak french,” Abraxas said rather rudely. Elizabeth hissed at him and pinched him on the arm, and he hissed back and withtook his arm. Before he could reach back to pinch her in return, Tom’s drawling voice cut in. 

”I’d rather be like to kept in the loop,” he drawled, sounding deeply annoyed. 

”Oh, they were just cursing at each other,” Edward explained cheerfully, clearly unoffended by Abraxas’ rudeness. 

“I’m surprised you don’t speak french, Riddle,” Elizabeth drawled smugly. 

Tom could act like a perfect gentlemen at all times. When it came to Aliena Greengrass, his defenses shattered like an arrow piercing flesh. He glared at her fiercely. And that was probably the first time Elizabeth had seen such an expression of pure hatred on him. Despite herself and the own fear the glare brought with it, she thought it rather suited him much better than that horrific lightness he liked to pretend at.

It seemed it was the first time Edward had seen such an expression on Tom, because he faltered for a moment as surprise overcame his face. 
Tom composed himself in a flash, and it was like that look never happened in the first place. Only the deep ripple it left behind. 

Slughorn called attention to the class, unabashed at his own tardiness. 

After potions was finished, Elizabeth wished she could return to her bed and sleep the day away, but on Monday’s she had a full grueling schedule, and she couldn’t afford to fall behind. 

She struggled to pay attention. 

Abraxas pulled her aside as they walked out. 
”I’ll take her to her next class,” Abraxas said to Edward. Edward looked between them, and then nodded, handing Elizabeth’s bag to Abraxas instead. It was always customary in this time for men to hold the bags of girls the accompanied. 

Abraxas and Elizabeth lingered near the entrance to the potions classroom until all straggling students left. There was a good ten minutes before her next class, and Abraxas clearly had something private to discuss, so she waited. 

“Why were you with him?” Abraxas asked, not beating around the bush. His light hair was in a bit more dissary than usual. 

”He decided to infiltrate my friends. He even came to the last quidditch match,” Elizabeth remarked, beginning to lead the way toward Herbology, her next lesson. He fell into step beside her. 

”What?” Abraxas demanded incredulously. 

”And the afterparty. In the Gryffindor common room,” Elizabeth said in exasperation. Abraxas didn’t take the news well. 

”He didn’t tell any of us!” he said. 

”Well he’s probably embarrassed about the lengths he’s going to in order to get under my skin.” She said, knowing it wasn’t true. Tom probably couldn’t be embarrassed if he tried. Unless it was about not knowing French. ”If you told me why he’s trying so hard to get close to me it would make things much easier for me to get rid of him,” she said. 

Abraxas hesitated, as if considering it. 

”I won’t tell him. Nobody will ever know.” She said quickly, sensing she was on the verge of a breakthrough.

 
”He won’t tell us why,” Abraxas said lowly, his face screwed in a mixture of confusion and what may have been concern. She stayed quiet, hoping for more. “He just said you’re… suspicious. He thinks your hiding something.” 

Abraxas knew Tom had been waiting in the wings to try and get closer to her. He saw the way he’d followed her out of the Three Broomsticks that day at Hogsmeade. He’d returned to the dorms later to find Tom in a simmering mood. And how he’d stormed away from the Bonfire on Halloween after her singing. 
What was Tom playing at?
Abraxas certainly never understood him. But he knew the cruelty, the power that lay beneath his pretty exterior. He knew the dark intentions he carried with him and employed.

He knew what Tom did to Myrtle Warren, and that Tom had returned to school that summer with a different air about him. He came back to Hogwarts with more power than he’d left it. 
And now the Heir of Slytherin had his sights set on Aliena. His mad cousin with no idea what dangers sat waiting in the woods for her. 

“And what do you think? You think I’m plotting his downfall too?” She questioned, sounding a bit angry. 

”Of course not,” Abraxas said quickly. Because he didn’t. He had amounted Tom’s suspicion to nothing more than that— suspicion. But Tom had never taken blatant suspicion this far. Not without logical reason. 

Sure, she was odd. But not dangerous. Nothing to be so interested in. 

“Listen to me now,” Abraxas said, pulling Aliena into a secluded alcove and lowering his voice. 

“Have you ever done anything to him? To arouse his suspicion?” he demanded. He searched her eyes desperately for some indication, for something. 

“No,” she said, offended. 

Abraxas let out of a breath, but wasn’t entirely relieved. She may have said or done something without even realizing it, and now it was getting her dangerous attention from Tom. 
”Right… Stay away from Tom,” Abraxas started, trying to warn her. 

But she interrupted quickly, “I have been from the beginning. You think I haven’t?” 

Abraxas appraised her, just realizing something for the first time. 

“Why don’t you like him?” Abraxas asked. 

She scowled at him. “He’s creepy. And he’s your friend. I don’t need any more reason than that.” 

That wasn’t enough, though, Abraxas realized. Tom wasn’t like other people. Even if Aliena’s hatred for Abraxas and his friends ran so deeply, Tom was charming and kind to strangers. He’d only shown his true colors to a select few and did very well to cover those tracks. 
”That’s probably it, then,” Abraxas concluded, leaning back.

”What?” 

”It’s not normal for anybody to dislike Tom. Everybody loves him. Even the people that hate him come to love him quickly.” 

”That makes me hate him more,” Aliena reasoned. 

Abraxas had to give it to her. She was smart. And it made her stupid at the same time. 
”It makes him suspicious of you.”

“And why is that so suspicious? And why would he go to such lengths? Nobody normal would care so much. Is he truly evil or something?” 

She was getting too close to the truth, and her face narrowed on him.

Elizabeth could see everything painted on his face. She was doing well to pretend her ignorance, and it was growing easier now that they edged toward the truth.
”He is isn’t he? I knew it-,” she started, and Abraxas covered her mouth with his palm. 

“Tom isn’t one to be trifled with, Aliena,” he said, voice growing dangerously low and shaky. He was scared, she realized. He continued, “He’s not the sort of person you want the attention of. He’s-… he’s dangerous. Stay away from him.” 

Elizabeth appraised him. He was trying to protect her. She had to admit, she never thought Abraxas would do such a thing. He looked so worried. Frightened, even. 
”I’ve told you, Abraxas. I am trying. He’s weaseled his way into my friend group. They all adore him, and I couldn’t convince them otherwise if I tried. Why can’t you convince him?”

“I can’t,” Abraxas said quickly. “Nobody can convince him to do anything he doesn’t want to do….,” he thought for a long grievous moment. “I know this sounds crazy-,” she scoffed, and he ignored her, “but you have to pretend you like him.” 

”Like him?” she asked in horror. 

”Yes, like you really like him. Pretend you fancy him, even. It’ll make him think you’re just like everybody else. Maybe he’ll get bored and leave you be.” 

”That sounds like it could backfire easily.” Elizabeth said seriously. 

”How?” 

”I know this is going to sound crazy-,” he scoffed, and she ignored him, but couldn’t help the hint of a smile, “but I think…," her smile dropped, "I think he can read minds.” She said. 

”What?” he asked. She was getting too close to the truth. The truth of Tom's power. How had she known? Abraxas could see now why Tom was so wary of and interested in her. She was too smart for her own good. And… Too powerful. Too powerful for Tom to leave alone.
Abraxas would have to hide it. Hide her. 

”I can’t explain it but… What if he’s a legilimens? I’ve never practiced occlumency, but I can sometimes feel like he’s watching me, even when he’s not there.” 

“You’re paranoid.” 

”Am I?” She countered with a raised brow. He hesitated. He was already giving too much information away. If Tom ever found out… 

Abraxas shuttered. And then he looked into those silver eyes, and Abraxas knew he would tell her anyway. 
”He can, Aliena,” he whispered. The confirmation shuttered over her. “But he’s not skilled, not yet. He’s learning still. He can’t read any distinguishable thoughts so far, not that I know.” Abraxas said. And he was confident that he would know. Because he practiced on them. Tom had practiced on him.

“It won’t matter anyhow if he can. You’ve got nothing to hide.” Abraxas said confidently. Aliena nodded in agreement.

Deep down, Elizabeth knew this wasn’t true, but didn’t let it show. She would have to skip lunch and go straight to the library to find anything about occulmancy that she could. Perhaps she would speak to Professor Merrythought— her defense against the dark arts teacher. She would certainly speak to Dumbledore. 

“It will matter if he figures out I’m pretending to like him,” she said sharply. 
Abraxas pursed his lips. 
”Figure out what you can about occlumency in the meantime. Aliena I’m not… I’m not kidding about this. It’s serious. Tom’s dangerous. Don’t get close to him, and don’t let him get close to you. If you even for a moment think he’s starting to charm you, let me know-,” Abraxas said, deeply worried now. 

”Don’t worry about that. It’ll never happen.” Elizabeth said firmly. The determined look on her face told him it was true. If there was anyone in the world he believed to be so headstrong as to resist Tom’s charms, it would be her. He realized this in such a fast moment, a cold flood ran through his blood and turned over his stomach. 

Before they parted, she grabbed Abraxas’ arm. 
”Wait-,” she said, her face falling. ”He’ll find out, won’t he? That you told me all this. And then it will be all for nothing.” 
Abraxas hesitated, just coming to that realization himself. Just coming to a realization that Aliena was so smart she had realized that too. He was starting to feel light-headed.

“Does he-… hurt you?” She asked softly. 
Abraxas frowned deeply, but she could see something hidden behind his eyes. 
”No.” 

She didn’t believe that lie for a second, and her stomach lurched in disgust. 
”You go on and on about how I’m friends with the wrong sort, Abraxas, but… Well- I suppose I couldn’t change your mind anyhow. I’ll erase your memories.” 
”What? No, thats-,” he protested vehemently. 

“Advanced magic, I know. I’m actually very good at it, don’t worry,” she said with an easy smug smile. 

Abraxas relaxed somewhat. In this moment, she strangely reminded him of Tom. If Tom were kind. With her performances in class and dodgily extensive magical education, it was hard not to believe her. And if she screwed up, one small memory could be easily repaired. He hoped... He actually didn’t know much about memory charms. 

”Fine.” he said, before he could change his own mind. Because the fear of Tom finding out was probably worse than going mad, and because it wouldn’t be only him that would suffer. He could go mad. But Aliena was mad too, in a sense, and that didn't seem to be so bad.

Worse than anything, Aliena would suffer. She'd suffer if Tom ever found out of this conversation. She'd learn what crucio meant. And she had already been through hell and back. And she had sat at their dinner table and been unapologetically herself. She had charmed his impossible parents in only months. She had made herself a home at Malfoy manor. 

And so Abraxas said, "Do it." 

The last thought before she whispered “Obliviate,” was, Aliena’s suffered enough. 

Elizabeth actually had never tried a memory erasing charm in her life.

She had read plenty of books about it and discussed theories on it with Dumbledore in detail. The subject had interested her greatly when she first came to the wizarding world, with how useful the implications were. 
But she didn’t use her actual wand to perform her magic, and that almost made her feel more secure. She stretched within herself and poked at that little prick of light. It responded greatly. 

It hadn’t failed her yet, and it wouldn’t fail her now. 
’Forget our last conversation’ she thought desperately. Abraxas’ eyes glazed over for a second, and then he blinked and he was back. 

“What did you want now?” he spat in annoyance, looking around the alcove as if just realizing they were there. His voice was much harder than the soft concern and worry it had been at only moments before. 

“Just thought I should tell you I have a massive crush on Tom,” she said, grinning. 
He sneered, shoving out and back onto the stairs. 
”You disgust me.” He said back, marching up without a second glance. His ears were ablaze again. 

Back to normal. 

-

Elizabeth was starving.

She skipped lunch and asked Gaia to smuggle her some food. Gaia provided a wealthy assortment of sandwiches that Elizabeth ate underneath the tables when professors weren’t looking. 

When Gaia asked where she went, Elizabeth told her the library. Her bag was stuffed full of books to prove it.

In Transfiguration, Elizabeth had asked Dumbledore after the class was over if she could have tea with him before dinner. He agreed happily, talking about how he was looking forward to catching up with her. After the incident in the bathrooms he was far more attentive to her everyday life, and took great concern to have meetings with her often. They had tea at least three times a week-- just the two of them. 

 
Defense was the last class of the day, and it went by slowly. Today wasn’t a practical lesson, but a lecture. Elizabeth took notes as carefully as ever, writing down questions to save for after class. 
When the students filed out, she hung back to ask them. She wrote down each answer as Professor Merrythought gave them to her. It was becoming a routine, and professors had grown to expect this from Elizabeth. 

But when she continued with further questions on occlumency, Professor Merrythought raised her brow. 
”What caught your interest in such a subject?” 
”I just think it’s very interesting, but we’re not set to learn it until next year,” Elizabeth reasoned. 

Professor Merrythought laughed. “Of course you know what the seventh years are studying,” she said, and then answered each of Elizabeth’s extensive questions in great detail. She even gave great references for books on the subject, most of which were already stuffed in Elizabeth’s bag.

But before Elizabeth left Merrythought added, "You know, Miss Greengrass.. You have nothing to fret of dark wizards here in Hogwarts." 

Elizabeth smiled at her. "Of course not professor. Just preparing for my future." 

Elizabeth checked the time. She only had six minutes to get across to Dumbledore’s office. It wasn’t much. 
She thanked Professor Merrythought in a hurry and ran. 

In the corridor, she passed Tom speaking to some of his Knights. They watched her come, her feet pattering over the stone floor as she clutched her bag to her chest. She held her breath, waiting for them to trip her or make fun of her or something. They didn’t dare. 

Elizabeth continued, huffing as she turned and climbed more steps. Why did Hogwarts have so many steps? 

“You think she’s going off to get a lobotomy?” Black chided gleefully as they watched her run down the corridor. Her white hair flew behind her in lovely waves. 
As she passed, Tom tried to catch her eye, but she was so focused he wasn’t even sure if she’d noticed them there. He watched as she turned to take a passage upward.

“What’s a lobotomy?” Lestrange asked. 

”Muggle procedure for mad people. They stick a rod into the nose or eye all the way into the brain,” Alphard Black started, sounding excited about the prospect. He was taking muggle studies. They all berated him for it constantly, but Alphard had laid firm that muggles were fascinating in their own right. 

”Practically. That’s the direction of Dumbledore’s office,” Tom remarked. He normally didn’t join in on useless chiding, so any time he did they burst into fitful laughter like he was the funniest person to walk the planet. He probably wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t for Dumbledore. He hated that fucking prat. Always watching him with those incepide eyes. 

It seemed the only two people in the entire world who seemed to see through him gravitated toward one another. Tom didn’t like it. No, in fact, he hated it. 

”Why you take muggle studies is beyond me,” Rodrick said in disgust to Alphard. 

”Because it pisses off the wee parents,” Alphard responded, as if this more than enough reason. 

-

There was an easy air to Dumbledore that Elizabeth didn’t normally associate with professors.

He’d always been a student-favorite. He was an eclectic sort that not many understood and that gave him a playful charm. His class was one that students looked forward to because it was hardly lecture-based and more hands on. And he was more open to participating in idiotic questions because of his empathetic understanding. A kind air that made everything seem easy. Even when answering questions wrong, he made any student feel as if you were correct all along. 

Even during serious conversation, there was a lightness about him. He was still unravaged by war, or the battle between him and his childhood friend and lover. 

Elizabeth had begun that conversation with the intent to convince her favorite professor (and perhaps friend), to take her on as his protege. To teach her the sorts of magic that she would need to protect herself. And if it came to it, the sort of magic it would take to destroy Tom. 

She hadn’t intended for the conversation to turn to tears. 

After a bit of concerned small talk about Elizabeth’s personal life, she managed to steer it in her desired direction. 

“Professor, I’ve been thinking a lot lately... about the kind of magic that’s not taught in classrooms… Or at least, that hasn’t been taught yet,” Elizabeth began, her voice careful, though there was a flicker of tension beneath it. She glanced down at her teacup, watching the swirling steam rise, then back up at Dumbledore, who was watching her with his ever-patient, curious gaze.

Dumbledore smiled softly, his eyes twinkling. “Ah, yes. There is indeed much that falls outside the confines of a curriculum. Magic is vast and varied, as is the knowledge we choose to seek. And what sort of magic have you been thinking about, Aliena?”

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. Her heart raced. Questions she had been carrying for so long. This wasn’t just about learning new spells—it was about arming herself, preparing for the dangers she knew lurked in front of her. The reality of Tom, of what he was capable of, pressed on her every day, like a shadow she couldn’t quite shake.

“I’ve been thinking about the kind of magic that protects the mind... and the soul,” she said quietly, her words careful and deliberate. “Things like Occlumency, but also more advanced forms of defense. There are dark forces at work, Professor. You know that better than anyone. I want to be ready for them.”

Dumbledore’s smile faltered, just for a moment. His gaze softened, and he leaned back in his chair, considering her words with that characteristic silence that always felt full of understanding. Whenever his eyes twinkled, Elizabeth felt like she was carrying some secret moment within her. Within pages of her past. She'd always thought, what does it mean when Dumbledore's eyes twinkled?  But now she knew. Because she was here, and because it was obvious. 

“I see,” he said gently, folding his hands in his lap. “And you wish to protect yourself from Grindelwald’s forces?”

Elizabeth nodded, a bit more eagerly now. “Yes. I’ve... I’ve come to realize that there are people—not just Grindelwald’s men—who can do things to others without them even knowing. They can manipulate, control, and worse. I can’t let that happen to me. I need to be stronger.”

Dumbledore’s expression didn’t change, though his gaze grew a touch more serious, more focused. She liked that about him. He always took her seriously. 

“You are not wrong, Aliena. There are those who seek power over others, who would use their gifts to cause harm.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “But learning to defend yourself is not merely about strength. It is also about wisdom—knowing when to fight, and when to seek peace. Tell me… you haven’t been experiencing any more ridicule or bullying from other students, have you?” His voice sounded deeply concerned. 

Elizabeth’s throat tightened. This was supposed to be a practical conversation, one about tactics and lessons, but something about Dumbledore’s gentle presence always disarmed her.

The way he reminded her of her own grandfather, in the same eclectic eccentric manner he carried himself with. Like her grandfather, he seemed to peek into her soul and know every emotion she hid in the bowels of her heart and mind. Worse than that, her grandfather had shown her Harry Potter. He had bought her the entire book set of the audiobooks read by Stephen Fry for her sixth birthday. He had shown her the movies with her in his lap. 

He had died and she was only nine. She wasn't there. It was from cancer and nobody had known until he fell and broke his leg. And then he was dead. 

But she remembered decorating his christmas tree and talking about the Hobbit and Harry Potter and pretending to be a wizard with some branch she'd found in his backyard as a wand. 

Her grandfather had always pretended to be Dumbledore. And she used to say she was Harry Potter. 
It seemed trivial now, those memories. When she actually faced him. When she could smell the real Dumbledore's cologne and taste his tea and see the strange devices he had in his office. 

It almost seemed selfish.

“No, I… haven’t. Though, there are some in Hogwarts… who unsettle me more than others.” Elizabeth said. “What if... what if the darkness inside someone grows too strong, and there’s no other way? Other than to destroy them?”

For a long moment, Dumbledore didn’t answer. The room seemed to quiet, as if the very air had stilled. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes now filled with a deep, almost sorrowful understanding. “You speak of Tom.”

Elizabeth looked away, blinking rapidly, trying to hold back the sudden flood of emotions.  How on earth did he know? 

Dumbledore’s wisdom was a force to behold at times.

She knew he was suspicious of Tom, but to accuse a student outright to her— it indicated he was more confident in his own suspicions than Elizabeth originally thought. And that he also knew Elizabeth was suspicious too. And that he trusted Elizabeth enough to say so.

“I just... he reminds me of the dark wizards who… killed my family,” she confessed, her voice beginning to waver as those memories surfaced. Memories that weren't even her own, and which she felt a fraud to see at all. “And I’m afraid... He’s trying to get closer to me. He’s already friends with Abraxas, and it seems like he… suspects me of something.”

Dumbledore’s gaze hardened, setting his teacup down into the saucer with newly renewed seriousness. “I’ve noticed. I myself have been keeping my own eye on Tom ever since certain events that occured last year. I don’t have any evidence of his involvement but… I understand the dark powers to which you refer. They’ve lurked within him deeply, ever since he was a child. He’s grown proficient at hiding them.” 

“So you think we have to stop him?” 

”Stop him in what, exactly? Do you know something, Aliena?” he asked. She pursed her lips. 

Not technically, she didn’t. “No. I don’t have any evidence either…” 
They fell into a weighted silence that spoke more than any words could say. A mutual frustration and fear. 

Dumbledore sighed, a soft, weary sound. He reached out and placed a comforting hand over hers, his touch warm and reassuring. “There are paths we all choose, Aliena. Some are more difficult than others. And some... lead us to places we never intended to go.”

Elizabeth looked back at him, her vision blurred by tears now. “But we know something. He’s--…something about him is wrong. Am I supposed to just sit back and pretend to like him? He won’t let me avoid him, and there is no way out.”

Dumbledore’s eyes, though filled with that same deep understanding, now carried a weight that Elizabeth hadn’t seen before. “Not everyone can be saved, Aliena,” he said softly, but very firmly. “But that does not mean we should stop trying. Sometimes, the greatest act of courage is not in destroying the darkness, but in holding on to the light, even when it seems faint.”

“What light?” She asked in bitter exasperation. 

“I knew somebody like Tom, once…” Dumbledore trailed off, his eyes turning misty as he gazed into his teacup. Elizabeth watched him. She knew he was referring to Grindelwald— the very man who had caused Aliena’s family’s death. The man he would defeat in a few short years. The man who he failed to change. 

“Did you change them?” She questioned, wanting more than anything for Dumbledore to face that truth. 

”No…. But I suppose even now, there is some hope for him that- well, I suppose I’ve always hoped he would become a better man.” 

”He hasn’t.” Elizabeth concluded at the sound of Dumbledore’s bitter tone. 

Albus shook his head, meeting her eyes again. “No. He hasn’t. This isn’t just about the war, or my family. This about me now. Protecting myself from what Tom could become. Protecting those I love..."

"And if Tom could learn to love, would he be saved? Would you?” Elizabeth laughed shortly. “He can’t love. He’s incapable.” 

”That’s a firm conclusion for somebody who has known him little more than a few months.” Dumbledore pointed out. 

She felt a bit caught, and said, “I can’t explain it. There’s a magic in me, Albus,” she used his first name in the way she only did in private and leaned forward desperately. “I can do things others can’t. I didn’t want to tell anybody because of what the Ministry, what St. Mungo’s would do if they found out.” This statement caused Dumbledore to lean back a bit, crossing his legs. She could see it now-- the way this must have been parallel to Tom. 

The confession was a lot to get off her chest. Dumbledore watched her with renewed interest. Wary interest. 

“What sort of magic?” He asked, as if he didn't want to ask in the first place. 

Elizabeth sucked in a shaky breath. She had thought this through deeply. Thought about what telling him this little tip of her mountain of secrets would mean. She had to trust him. Because she couldn’t trust anybody else, and she could no longer do this alone. 

Elizabeth sighed and set her cold untouched tea down and then lifted her gaze to his again. 

“Please- don’t tell anybody?” She asked, desperately.

Dumbledore met her eyes, nodded and smiled. “Of course, Aliena. It will be our secret.” 

She didn't quite believe him, but she also didn't really care. She knew he would, when she showed him.

”It happened after… everything that happened. Like an awakening. A birth. I was happy, at first. But now, I’m scared of the implications. Of those who seek out power. Those who would seek it out and try to kill me for it. Try to kill others for it.” She concluded. Dumbledore was more serious now than he’d ever seen her. 
She finally sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. 

She held her hands up and lax against the arms of her chair.

The shadows of the room darkened, but all the many candles that decorated the office flared to long pillars. The crackling fire in the fireplace went silent and turned a shade of impossibly white.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and held her hands in front of her forward. Dumbledore was leaning forward in his seat, eyes aglow from the fire and white light. In between her hands, that little speck of golden light appeared. Like a pin prick at first but slowly gathering larger and larger into a spinning form of golden glowing dust. Like a being in itself, it moved around—a flowing river of golden sand crackling with light from within. 

Dumbledore let out a shaky breath, taking off his spectacles and looking at it in amazement. He stretched out his hand, and the sand swirled around his palm. It lurched for his hand in a moment, and though she could not feel him physically she knew he felt warmth, and love, and hope. He jerked away slightly, and Elizabeth knew he must have been feeling her very magic thrumming through his body. He watched as the physical manifestation of her magic returned to the swirling cloud, and then it slowly and gradually shrunk back down until it was that prick of light again. It floated toward Elizabeth’s chest and pressed into her torso over her heart, where it settled back home. 

She sighed out a great breath, and the fire in the room returned to normal, the shadows retreating back in place. 

Dumbledore sagged back in his seat breathlessly. He shook his head in disbelief, rubbed his eyes, and then returned his spectacles back in place. 

There was a long stretch of silence again. 

Elizabeth spoke first. ”I thought… I didn’t know what it could be at first. I still don’t… But I’ve been doing so much research-," She said. 

He seemed to be fighting within himself.

"I can only think of one other thing it could remind me of…” Elizabeth trailed off, wringing her hands. 

”An obscurus.” Dumbledore said mistily. 

“Right, but… Obscurials are made of darkness. And this…,” 

”It’s light!” Dumbledore exclaimed, as if this was incredible news.

He stood up now, pacing with renewed excitement. “An obscurus of light! This has— this is unheard of, Aliena. It’s impossible!” 

”I know… I can only imagine what the Ministry would do if they found out…,” She said grimly. 

Dumbledore paused, nodding. “You’re right… You’re right,” he said as he sat once more but he leaned forward to hold her clasped hands in his. 

”This is incredible magic, Aliena. If anybody ever found out… you’d be tested upon. Probably locked away out of fear, to observe the implications. It is important you listen to me now, dear girl,” he started. He was serious, but not upset. “You cannot allow anybody to find out about your power. Not your family, not your friends. You shouldn’t have even told me," he said gravely, looking her in the eye. But she wanted to tell him. She knew she could tell him, and he wouldn't do anything about it.

He continued, "You were right in what you suspected. Not only would good wizards be attracted to such a thing, but the dark sort would… They would kill you for it. If Grindelwald ever found out-…,” he shuttered, and shook his head grimly. 

Elizabeth frowned and looked down at their clasped hands. Dumbledore continued. 

”Yes, you must hide it. But do not seek to hide it from yourself. This is a gift, Aliena. A gift from whatever heaven may exist. You must covet this with all your heart. Nurture it, love it. It is a part of you now. It is a blessing, not a curse," he held her hands tighter, "Never allow yourself to think otherwise.” He said it so fiercely, and tucked her hands together before letting them go. As if letting her go. Letting go of something he had left behind.

Still, he looked happy. Elizabeth thought she had hallucinated the single tear that fell down his crows feet at the corner of his eye and down his cheek. 
”Albus, I told you for a reason. I- I need you,” She said, fearing that now she would truly be alone in this world. If he didn’t help her… she wouldn’t know what to do. 

He appraised her for a moment, and then nodded with a small smile. 

“Of course. Of course, you’re just a child… I will help you in whatever way I can.” He said assuredly. 

He sat back again, letting out a disbelieving chuckle that turned into a breathless laugh he covered with his mouth. Elizabeth watched him curiously. She didn’t expect this sort of reaction at all. 

”What?” She questioned. 

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. And then he nodded and began to explain. 
”I used to have a sister, once. You dearly reminded me of her. By a great deal did you remind me of her…” he said wistfully, with a hint of pain behind it. She was silent as he continued. 
”Something happened to her. I failed to protect her. She—… she was infected by an obscurus. One of a dark nature. Her magic became dangerous and unpredictable. I- I did something foolish in my youth. I put her into great danger. It lead to her death. It was selfish of me to meet you and think such things without your knowledge. To think that… That if I helped you now it would somehow make up for some sort of fraction of the pain I caused…” He trailed off. 

Elizabeth couldn’t help herself. She sat forward a bit and this time she reached across and put her hand over his again. 
”I-… don’t know what happened in your past," lie, "But I do know you now. I know you are a good man. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. You’ve been a friend. A friend when I needed one the most. I’m sure your sister would believe the same. Anybody who knows the goodness of your heart would not want you to blame yourself.” 

Dumbledore nodded, another tear falling, but this time it met the creases of a breathless laugh at the corners of his mouth. “Yes… Yes you remind me of her very much, even now.” He said, patting the top of her hand. 
A moment passed between them. A moment of understanding. Of gratitude. 
He would care for her. She would care for him. They would heal whatever wounds had been inflicted by the past, and move forward into a new future. A better one. 

And when Elizabeth laughed, he laughed too. And the room was warm with candlelight. It smelled of firewood and lingering tea. It sounded like a song. A song of a promise of what would come. 

-

The remainder of her time spent in Dumbledore’s office was brought back to occlumency, which Dumbledore took very seriously now that he knew what she had to hide. He told her the basic exercises to begin setting foundations, and emphasised she read books on the subject as quickly as she could to gain an in-depth understanding. 

He also agreed to keep his eye on her and Tom. She told him of her plan to pretend to have a crush on him, in order to try and set his interest in her elsewhere. He seemed concerned at the idea, but did not have any better solutions that would work at the moment. 
She didn’t tell Dumbledore of Tom’s budding legilimency or what Abraxas had hinted at with how he treated his Slytherin friends. She knew she could, but with Dumbledore’s newfound passionate interest in the implications of the magic that lived within her, she couldn’t bring herself to break his good mood. 
She would have to eventually, when the time was right. There was nobody better to put a definitive stop to Tom Riddle than Dumbledore. She knew she couldn’t do this by herself. She would need his help. 

They decided she would have private lessons on the subject three times a week. Her schedule was more packed than ever now, and she’d have to come up with some sort of excuse as to why she had suddenly become a protégé of Dumbledore’s. Perhaps she’d just say their tea parties were simply increasing. Maybe she could hint at the idea that Dumbledore was worried about her mental state, and wanted to keep her under his careful watch. It would fit in smoothly into the narrative St. Mungo’s had unwittingly created for her. 

If it meant she would have to slow her exploration of the castle, she would. If it meant she would spend less time with her newfound friends, she would. If it meant she would no longer fall into the easy carefree pace that every other student at Hogwarts did, she would. 

At the end of the day, she was not one of them. She was never one of them. She never would be. She would leave one day. This world and the time she spent here would turn into a faded memory of what could have been. 

Despite the bitterness of these conclusions, she found herself more positive than ever. Appreciating every moment— the good and the bad. Her sore blistered feet after climbing the endless steps. Broken quills. Ink spilling over her homework. Lost games of wizards chess (which she was very poor at). They all seemed rather romantic when gazing at them from the lense that they were scarce and precious. 

And would one day they would all be gone from her reach. 

-

Tom often met with Slughorn, even when there weren’t Slug Club parties. 
He was the head of house, and despite how silly Slughorn could be, he certainly had his uses. 

Especially when Tom needed something. Slughorn was so easily manipulated that there wasn’t much Tom couldn’t get away with.

Slughorn was seated behind his large mahogany desk when Tom entered his office, surrounded by a small array of half-finished potions and rare magical ingredients, looking very much in his element.

"Ah, Tom, my boy!" Slughorn beamed, his round face lighting up at the sight of his prized student. "Come in, come in! Always a pleasure to see you. How are you faring these days? Excelling in your studies, no doubt."

Tom offered a modest smile, his dark eyes glittering with something deeper beneath the surface. “I’m doing well, Professor. Potions has always been a... particular interest of mine, thanks to your excellent teaching.”

Slughorn chuckled, waving a pudgy hand. "Oh, nonsense, nonsense! You’ve always had a natural talent. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if you surpassed even the likes of me one day! But come now, what brings you here? A particular ingredient you’re after? Perhaps another inquisition on the theoretical implications of ingredients?"

Tom’s smile widened ever so slightly, his gaze calculating as he approached Slughorn’s desk. "Actually, Professor, I was hoping to discuss something along those lines. You see, our- your Slug Club... it's become quite the gathering of talented individuals. Future leaders, brilliant minds… It’s a remarkable group." 

Slughorn puffed up with pride at Tom’s words and familiarity, leaning back in his chair. "Yes, yes, I’ve always prided myself on spotting the brightest stars before they fully rise. You included, of course, Tom."

"Thank you, sir," Tom said smoothly. "That’s precisely what I wanted to talk to you about. The past few parties have been so brilliant I had to give my compliments to the host."

Slughorn laughed and nodded his agreements, talking about silly small talk and mentioning the names of several high-status individuals who had already confirmed their attendance to the Slug Club. 

After listening and agreeing for several long boring minutes of conversation, Tom began to plant the seeds. 

”Of course, I was wondering if you were interested in adding some more entertainment to our gatherings?” He questioned. 

Slughorn blinked, as if thinking of this for the first time. “Ah! Good thought, Tom. Good thought indeed. Yes, some entertainment would add some refinement to our meetings.” 

”I thought of it while I was attending a party in the Gryffindor common room,” Tom admitted hushly, as this was a great secret. Slughorn adored secrets. Especially when they came from Tom. 

”Gryffindor? How inclusive of you, Tom! You never fail to impress me. I’ve always thought my Slytherins should be more united with the other houses. Set the bar high, haven’t you?” He asked cheerfully. Tom smiled at him, pretending to be a bit bashful at the compliments. 

”I just thought it was about time, you know. The Slug Club has already made me so many friends and connections from other houses. I was simply following your lead.” Tom endeared. 
Slughorn preened, and said, “Lovely thought my boy. And how was this.. party?” 

The hint of curiosity poorly masked the greed Slughorn carried. He wanted to know if the Slug Club was better. 

”It was just a celebration after the quidditch match. Nothing so refined,” he said, the words ‘as the Slug Club is’ being implied.

Slughorn nodded, satisfied.

“Only,” Tom added, and his professor faltered for a moment, “I found they did certainly have some spectacular entertainment.” 

Slughorn’s brow furrowed slightly, the idea that any party being better than the ones he hosted being a threat to his reputation.

"Entertainment? Yes… I daresay I have heard some rumors about such things. You know, that Aliena Greengrass in Gryffindor, she made quite a performance at the Halloween Bonfire. Fairly decent student, too... not exactly the best in Potions, I’m afraid, but that’s to be expected since it is her first year as my student." Slughorn suggested, implying that his classes weren’t easily managed.

Tom didn’t think so, but let him think it.

“Did she sing at the little… party?” Slughorn asked, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably. 

Tom inclined his head in confirmation, his expression thoughtful. "It’s true, she may not excel in Potions, but she has... other talents. You’ve always said that the Slug Club is about more than just academics, Professor. It’s about influence, connections, people who bring something special to the table."

Slughorn's curiosity piqued as he leaned forward, intrigued. "Go on."

"Aliena has a natural charm and a way of drawing people in. She’s quite talented in music and performance—her singing is remarkable. Those of the arts they have a certain, je ne sais quoi?" Tom asked. It was one of the rare french phrases he knew. Tom felt certain he should use it now.  

"Rarity!" Slughorn pried greedily. 

"Yes! She had the entire common room enthralled. Reminded me rather of Aqua Rex." Tom said. 

Aqua Rex was an extremely popular singer in the wizarding world. Her popularity boomed after she graduated from Hogwarts, and after only a few years was a household name. 

Slughorn had taught her, but she'd never gotten to the point of advances potions. Tom knew he felt as if this was some sort of slight. As if Slughorn had overlooked her. 

Slughorn’s eyes widened in surprise. "Ah, I did hear some rumors about Aliena's performance! You know, I taught Aqua Rex, I did,” Tom widened his eyes in a perfect picture of awe, which Slughorn nodded at with a smug smile, “She was always a bit of a troublemaker. Very popular, but she never had quite the proficiency to ever be invited to the Slug Club….,” he trailed off with furrowed eyebrows.

Slughorn's face lit up, as if he was coming to the conclusion Tom had well-crafted himself. “Something about a performance, wasn’t it? Hmm... I suppose talent comes in many forms. It’s true, we could use a bit of... variety in the Club. After all, it’s not every day that you find a student who can bring people together so effortlessly." He looked up at Tom, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "You’ve always had an eye for talent, Tom. I must admit, I hadn’t considered Miss Greengrass in that light before. Perhaps an invitation wouldn’t be such a bad idea."

Tom’s smile was calculated and his satisfaction carefully masked, but he infused his voice with just the right amount of charm. "I’m certain she would be honored to be part of your circle, Professor. And who knows? She may surprise you with her influence in the future."

Slughorn grinned broadly, his decision made. "Very well! I shall send her an invitation. Perhaps at our next gathering she can give us a taste of that musical talent you speak of. Thank you, Tom. Always so insightful."

"Of course, Professor," Tom said with a gracious smile. "Anything to help bring in more... potential."

As Tom turned to leave, his face shifted ever so slightly—his smile growing a fraction colder, more calculating. Slughorn had played right into his hands, just as he had expected. Aliena Greengrass’s inclusion in the Slug Club would put her even further into his orbit, exactly where he wanted her.

As he left Slughorn’s office, Tom’s thoughts swirled darkly. Soon, Aliena would be more than just a player on the fringes of his grand design. She would be fully within his reach. And when the time was right, he would have her exactly where he wanted.

-

Chapter Text

When Elizabeth was twelve, she was heartbroken for the first time.

It wasn’t from a boy— no, she wasn’t even interested in them until she’d begun high school. Her first heartbreak of her life was from her best friend.

Her name was Sarah. 

In the seventh grade Elizabeth went her a birthday party. It was a pool party. Everybody wore their tankinis. Elizabeth wore a t-shirt over her's, and sat by the pool instead of swimming. She used to like to swim. Until a boy called her a whale once and she stopped.

Elizabeth and Sarah used to play mermaids together. Only last month, they played it. But when Elizabeth suggested it, the other girls laughed and sent her condescending looks. Sarah laughed too. "We're way too old to be playing pretend," one of the girls had said. 

Elizabeth had always felt she didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the girls. She daydreamed too much. She liked reading too much. She didn’t play sports, or talk about crushes at lunchtime. But it was for her childhood friend-- Sarah. And so she was there, smiling as she splashed her feet in the water and wondering what color her tail would be if Sarah still liked to play mermaids.  

Elizabeth still remembered that feeling of standing outside of the cracked door and overhearing a conversation from the bedroom within. The girls had ran inside long ago and Elizabeth had finally gathered the courage to join them. The door sat slightly ajar and she leaned forward as the water from her bathing suit created a puddle on the floor.

“I just don’t even get why she came.” One of the little girls said. Her name was Sasha. She was pretty and popular, and had her first kiss in the fifth grade on top of the A-frame at recess. Sarah had become closer with her the past two years, ever since middle school started. But especially over these last months. Elizabeth felt it, but she knew deep down that Sarah was her best friend. They’d been best friends since third grade. There wasn’t even a question about it.

”Lizzy is leaving after presents, right? She’s not coming to the sleepover, is she?” Another girl asked.

”No,” Sarah said vehemently and they laughed. “My mom made me invite her, but she doesn’t even know about the sleepover.”

Elizabeth stepped back from the doorframe and inched her way into the bathroom, shutting the door silently.

Elizabeth cried for a good thirty minutes. Nobody came looking for her. When she came out of the bathroom, she peeked into the living room. They were singing happy birthday. Sarah didn't even notice she wasn't there. Elizabeth crept out the front door and ran down the street back home.

After that she didn’t speak to them at school. And Sarah didn’t even care. She probably didn’t even notice. Elizabeth sat alone at lunch. It was embarrassing at first, until she began eating in her favorite teacher’s classroom. She taught english. They talked about books, or they sat silently reading in each other's presence. Nobody liked Mrs. Winston like Elizabeth did. She was mean, but she was smart. And Elizabeth liked her recommendations and always called on her in class.

After a while, Mrs. Winston became concerned. Asking strange questions like, "Do you have any friends your age?" and, "You know, if anyone is mean to you, I want you to tell me. I won't get you in trouble." 

After that Elizabeth had to go to meetings with the guidance counselor once a month. She sat alone on the bus and listened to music. 

She read books. She tossed a basketball into the hoop in her driveway. She rode her bike to through the forest trail and built forts out of sticks and pretended she was in a dystopian world in which she had to survive. She pretended she was in a fantasy world fighting off monsters. She pretended she was in Harry Potter, waving a stick as a wand.

She liked to daydream. She liked to play alone. She didn't even mind she had no friends. 

She told the guidance counselor this so many times that the meetings gradually came to a stop. By the time she entered high school, she was blissfully left alone. Nobody noticed her come and go. Nobody spoke to her in the hallway or classes. Elizabeth forgot about what heartbreak felt like. And she forgot what friendship felt like too. 

She forgot how friendship felt until she met Gaia, Sorise, Natasha, Berniece, and Terra. 

She forgot how heartbreak felt until that one afternoon she made her way back up to the Gryffindor girls dorm room. She had been in the library studying as usual, but decided to cut her normal study time short because she needed to grab another bottle of ink from her trunk. It was a cruel twist of fate to hear the voices from the creak in the door.

"...Aliena," someone had said. 

A sliver of light on the stone. Her body going rigid. Stomach plummeting. They were talking about her. 

Elizabeth froze in place, her heart thudding in her chest like it had back then. That gnawing feeling she thought she’d outgrown—rejection, isolation—began to stir inside her.

Inside the room, Gaia was laughing with two other Gryffindor girls, voices soft and conspiratorial. 

“Are you sure she doesn’t know?” one of the girls in seventh grade had asked. Elizabeth pressed herself against the cold stone of the wall, barely breathing.

“Of course she doesn’t,” Gaia said to whatever comment Elizabeth had gotten the tail end of, her tone almost dismissive. “I mean, I like her, but Merlin’s beard, she can be such a tease. It’s like she’s always in her own world. No care in the world for anyone but herself. We’re all going to Hogsmeade together this weekend-- just us. We need a break from the ‘Miss Perfect’ routine, don’t you think? She probably won’t even notice, with the way she’s never around.”

There was a ripple of soft laughter, and Elizabeth’s stomach sank.

“Poor Edward,” Saoirse said in exasperation. “He follows her around like a lost puppy. You’d think he’d get the hint.”

Gaia sighed. “She’s sweet, really, but... exhausting, you know? Always with her nose in a book, always wanting to know more, like she can’t ever just relax. I mean, I’m not buying it for a second. She claims she doesn’t like him, but she’s all over him when she thinks nobody is watching. She’s got him totally fooled.”

“Fooled? I don’t think she really likes him,” Terra reasoned.

”No, she just likes the attention. I mean, it’s the same with the Slytherins. Even Tom’s got his head turned,” Gaia said.

”It’s unfair,” Saoirse whined, sounding muffled as if she shoved her head into a pillow. ”She’s so pretty. It’s like she thinks she’s better than everybody else, the way she acts like we’re all beneath her.”

”I could hate her less if she weren’t so pretty,” Gaia snapped, scornfully.

Hate?

”You’re being a jealous lump,” Terra said firmly.

”You wouldn’t say that if you liked men.” Gaia snapped back. Terra scoffed, but didn’t say anything.

Elizabeth felt a lump rise in her throat. She stepped back, just as she had when she was twelve, and retreated silently down the stairwell. The dormitory door creaked open a little further, but she didn’t look back. She didn’t need to hear any more.

The hallway felt longer than usual as she made her way to the common room, her thoughts swirling. The years between twelve and now, all those memories of learning to be alone, came rushing back in a painful wave. She thought she had moved past it—that this time would be different. She had convinced herself that her place in the magical world meant she wouldn’t be left behind again. That here everything was different.

But here she was, with that same gut-wrenching dread. 

She found herself on one of the couches by the fireplace, staring into the flickering flames, willing the burn in her chest to subside.

Her thoughts turned to Tom, of all people. He would never be cast aside like this. He had his circle, his charm, and his power. What would he have done? Burst through the door and shot curses at them? Bided his time to manipulate them into humiliation. Elizabeth could see the appeal in this now despite the shame it wrought. 

Elizabeth had always wanted to believe in friendship, in the warmth of belonging. But the more she saw of people the more she felt like an outsider. As though she was destined to be on the fringes, no matter where she went. No matter how hard she tried.

Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of her wand, resting against her leg. There were bigger things than this. She knew she was leaving. She knew she would be gone. She knew that this wouldn’t last.

The sting of it didn’t hurt any less.

Elizabeth didn’t return to the dorms until well after curfew. The room was dark and all the bed curtains drawn. Elizabeth showered for a long time. She crawled into bed and closed her own curtains firmly shut, wordlessly and wandlessly willing them stuck shut and silent.

Elizabeth didn’t cry often. She didn’t care enough about many things to cry about them. But as she stared up at the dark canopy above her, the tears slipped out without her consent. And then soft sobs followed, and she buried her face into her pillow, willing herself to sleep if only just to escape being awake.

The worst of it was probably when she awoke and the girls all acted totally normal.

Gaia joked the same way. Saoirse lamented the Slytherin boys, Tom in particular, in the same way. Berniece fussed over her appearance. Natasha fretted over homework. Terra scorned the cold weather.

Elizabeth couldn’t help the thought that scraped at the back of her mind. How long had they been talking about her behind her back? How long had they secretly resented her, secretly hated her? Had she confided in them, just to go and mock her? Had she joked to them, only for them to exchange secret glances behind her back?

The jutting pain left her silent and distant. She spent extra time in the bathroom. She got dressed quickly and didn’t bother with overly fretting with how she looked. Looking in the mirror felt more like a curse now. If Aliena wasn’t so pretty, would she be facing this sort of ridicule? She certainly wouldn’t be garnering the same attention from the boys. Would that, in turn, have left her free of her supposed friend’s scorn?

Would she… would she want that? Would her being uglier make their friendship any more genuine?

And no, it wouldn't. Because when she was Elizabeth she was ugly. And when she was Aliena she was pretty. And the results were the same. It hurt more knowing that the only common denominator was her. 

Elizabeth was sitting in charms when she came to a few realizations she hadn’t even considered before.

They were just girls. It was normal for girls to be jealous. Elizabeth was new, and her popularity couldn’t have come easy to them. She couldn’t even blame them.

If Elizabeth looked like her real self and a girl like Aliena came along- powerful, beautiful, talented, well-off, and garnering the attention of all the most attractive boys in the school- she would most definitely be jealous too. It really wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair of Aliena, or Elizabeth. And it wasn’t fair for her friends to treat her that way. None of it was fair.

She wanted to retreat back into herself. The way she knew best. The way in which she never got hurt. The way where she never let anybody close enough to hurt her.

It was during lunch when somebody unfamiliar sat next to her. Or rather than unfamiliar, he was unfamiliar to the table.

”Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.” Aldric said in gibberish.

Elizabeth looked over at him. He was scooping up lunch onto a free plate, uncaring about the many stares he was receiving from students around him.

“What are you doing?” She asked in regular english.

He glanced over at her with a cheeky smile. ”Eating lunch. What are you doing?” He asked, glancing at the uneaten ham sandwich on her plate.

Elizabeth shifted, picking it up into her hand.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” she whispered to him in gibberish, even though anybody who eavesdropped wouldn’t be able to understand a thing they said.

”Where?” he asked. He was amused. She tried not to let her dismal mood make her snippy with his good one.

“You know where.” She said back in english, taking a bite of sandwich. It didn’t taste as good as usual. She noticed how her friends had somewhat retreated into a cluster, watching and whispering. Was this how it had always been? Was Elizabeth being naïve not to notice before?

“I don’t think there are any rules of where I can and cannot sit.” he reasoned back, taking a happy bite of chicken.

She watched him with uneasy eyes. But his relaxed demeanor had that same soothing effect it always had on her. Like she could totally be herself around him without worry.

She smiled at him. He smiled back. ”Meet me after dinner?” He asked in gibberish again. Elizabeth didn’t have to contemplate. Any excuse to stay away from her dorms was a good one.

She nodded, taking another bite.

He lightly bumped his shoulder into her’s. She bumped him back, and they ate the rest of their lunch in silence.

As usual, the girls bombarded her with questions afterward. It felt strange to pretend that everything was as normal as it always had been. But this time, she wasn’t so opposed to objecting to there insinuations about Aldric being romantic. Was she being eager to please? Trying to get back on their good side by indulging their theories and ideas?

Maybe… But maybe it was working, because they all seemed to be in a much more chipper mood than usual in their next class as they eagerly encouraged the idea that Aldric had a crush on Elizabeth.

Elizabeth couldn’t help herself to feel just slightly more chipper too.

That night after dinner she met Aldric in the room of requirement.

This time, there wasn’t a bountiful of instruments as normal. Even the ceiling was smaller, and room more cozy. Only the single grand piano and a guitar. The rest of the room had some bookcases and stacks of books littered around armchairs and sofas and a fireplace. 

Normally, Aldric would be playing, or waiting for her at the stool. This time, he was sitting on an armchair, looking more upright than Elizabeth had ever seen him since she’d first met him.

He looked up as soon as she entered, snapping the book he was reading shut.

”So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

He certainly didn’t beat around the bush. Elizabeth chuckled guiltily, rubbing the back of her neck.

"That obvious, huh?"

Aldric raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in the armchair. "No. I’m just unusually perceptive."

She shifted as she stood. His eyes softened as he motioned for her to sit on the ottoman across from him. "Come on, Lina. What’s going on?"

She hesitated for a moment, before walking over and sinking onto the ottoman. Aldric's eyes were sharp, but his presence was always steady, calming. It was one of the many reasons she felt safe in this room with him. Elizabeth sighed deeply, her hands clasping together in her lap.

"It’s just—" she began, then stopped, not quite sure how to put it into words. She looked down at her hands, then back at Aldric, whose gaze hadn’t wavered. "You ever feel like... you’re always on the outside? No matter how hard you try, or how much you think you’re fitting in, you’re never really... one of them?"

Aldric blinked. "Them? Did you’re friends do something?"

There was a strange glint in his eyes she’d never seen on his face before. Strangely protective and dangerous, like an older brother.

Elizabeth smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "It’s just... stupid, really. I overheard some of the girls talking—Gaia and the others. They were planning a Hogsmeade trip and didn’t invite me." Her voice was soft, almost embarrassed. "They said I’m.. a flirt. That I don’t fit in. That they.. hate me."

Aldric’s expression darkened further. He shifted and crossed his legs, his fingers drumming against the armrest. "Idiots," he muttered under his breath. "You’re worth ten of them."

Elizabeth laughed a little, though the sound was hollow. "You have to say that. You’re my friend."

Aldric’s gaze softened again as he stood up, crossing the space between them to sit beside her on the ottoman. "No, I don’t. I say it because it’s true. They’re supposed to be your friends. You’ve got more talent, more passion, more heart than any of them. And yeah, maybe they don’t get that because they’re too busy worrying about their hair or what some dumb Quidditch player thinks of them."

After this passionate speech he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes searching his face. His sincerity was unmistakable, and for a moment, she felt the weight in her chest lift, just slightly.

"What did they say?" He followed, collecting himself and putting his elbows on his knees as he looked over at her. 

Elizabeth hesitated, but when she got started she couldn’t stop. They began an animated exchange, talking about the girls and their statements. How unfair they had been to her. How they contradicted their own claims. How Elizabeth wasn’t a flirt, and certainly didn’t intend to be.

At the end of it Elizabeth paused, realizing something. They were gossiping now. About the girls. They were gossiping harshly. She had insulted them multiple times. She had been cruel, bringing up things Aldric didn’t even know.

Aldric gave her a lopsided grin, catching her expression. "Don’t worry. You don’t need them to validate who you are, Lina. You’ve got something special. Something they wish they could dream of having."

She looked away, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. "It just hurts, you know? To think you’ve found your place, and then... you realize you’re still on the outside."

"I get it," Aldric said, his voice softer now. "But here’s the thing—you’re not alone," he put his hand over her's, "You’ve got me. And the Room of Requirement," he added with a small laugh. "And we’ll figure out the rest together. Whatever happens, we’ve got this."

Elizabeth smiled, her heart warming at his words. "Thanks, Aldric."

He shrugged, "It's what I do," he said, standing up again and walking over to the grand piano.

"You know…," he began slowly, his tone casual but with an edge of mischief as he pressed a single key, "there’s a way to get those idiots off your back."

Elizabeth looked up skeptically from the ottoman, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? And what’s that? Hex them?"

Aldric chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no hexes needed." He turned to face her fully, his expression more serious now but still playful. "What if... you went steady with someone?"

Elizabeth blinked, caught completely off guard. "What?"

"Think about it," Aldric continued, leaning against the piano. "If you found a boyfriend nobody would question your intentions anymore. They wouldn't think you're trying to steal their crushes out from under them. They’d leave you alone. You wouldn’t have to worry about Gaia or any of the others being jealous of you. They’d be too busy talking about the new ‘it couple’ to notice anything else. And as for the boys… well, they’d realize they don’t have a chance and give up any strange ideas."

Elizabeth stared at him, still processing. "Aldric, that’s... I mean, that’s ridiculous," she laughed, though there was an undertone of curiosity in her voice. "Nobody would even be my—,"

“I would.”

The silence hung shortly as she stared at him in shock.

Aldric shrugged nonchalantly. "It’s not that complicated. People love a good romance. It gives them something to talk about, and if we give them that, it’ll take the pressure off you. Plus," he added with a smirk, "it’s not like it’d be real. We’d just... pretend."

Elizabeth scarfed out a laugh. “That’s idiotic!”

”It’s genius.”

It was something out of a cheesy romance. Fake dating? What was this, some poorly written fanfiction? she thought.

But… Well, she was already in another world. How strange was fake dating in comparison to magic and Hogwarts? She’d heard of stranger things. She’d seen stranger things. She was the stranger thing.

And even more tempting was the realization that she wouldn’t have to start pretending like she had some fake crush on Tom. It would put a barrier between them— her world and his world. No matter how close he got with her friends, she would always have an excuse to find herself somewhere else. And if she was careful, she’d keep Aldric safe. If anyone in the world would trust her based on her word alone, it would be Aldric. All she would have to say is, ‘I don’t like Tom. Let’s not be his friend’ and Aldric would surely understand.

Right?

She bit her lip, her mind racing. "You think that would actually work?"

Aldric leaned back again, folding his arms over his head casually. "I think it would. You’d get to live your life without all the petty gossip, and I get to keep hanging out with you without everyone assuming something’s ‘wrong’ with us for being so close. You don't even understand the amount of teasing I get about you. It’s a win-win."

Elizabeth looked at him thoughtfully. The idea was absurd, but at the same time... tempting. If they were "together," maybe people like Gaia and Saoirse would stop getting idiotic ideas in their heads. And she wouldn’t feel so out of place in her own house. They'd have no reason to be jealous of her.

Plus, with Aldric, it wouldn’t be weird. They were already close friends. As close of friends as any two people could be so quickly. If anything, it would just be more of what they were already doing—minus the romantic part, of course.

"I don’t know..." she said slowly, trying to weigh the pros and cons in her head. "Wouldn’t people figure out it’s fake?"

She was mighty good at pretending, but deep down… Elizabeth had never dated anyone. She hadn’t even had her first kiss. There was no way she could feasibly pull it off.

Aldric grinned, leaning forward as he sat on the piano bench. "Not if we play it right. A few public appearances, hand-holding here and there, maybe a couple of stolen glances. People see what they want to see. And besides, we wouldn’t have to keep it up forever. Just long enough for everyone to lose interest in the latest round of drama."

Elizabeth chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "This sounds like something out of a cheesy romance novel."

"Hey, sounds like a good plot to me," Aldric said, his grin widening. "Besides, think of the look on Gaia’s face when she sees us ‘together'. She won’t know what hit her. She’d be so excited about it you wouldn’t hear about anything else for weeks."

That thought made Elizabeth laugh, and for a brief moment, she considered it. The idea of not having to deal with the nagging in the back of her mind that she wasn’t fitting in with her friends in the way she’d thought... it was appealing. And with Aldric by her side, she knew she wouldn’t have to face any of it alone.

"Okay," she said finally, her voice hesitant but filled with curiosity. "Let’s say we do this. How would it even start?"

Aldric’s eyes lit up, clearly excited that she hadn’t dismissed the idea outright. "Simple. Tomorrow at breakfast, we sit together. I’ll be all charming and attentive—no big deal, since that’s how I am anyway." He winked, earning a playful eye roll from Elizabeth, "We’ll walk to class together, maybe make a few appearances in our common rooms, and that’ll be enough to get the rumors going. Tell your friends, ‘in confidence’,” he said in air quotations with his fingers, “And the rest will take care of itself. They can't keep their mouths shut with a good bit of gossip."

Elizabeth stared at him, her heart racing slightly at the thought. It wasn’t like her to pull something like this. But maybe that’s what she needed—something bold, something different. Maybe this would give her the breathing room she needed.

“Maybe even sing a few duets,” he suggested, with a twinkle in his eye.

She was a Gryffindor now, Elizabeth reminded herself. A silent retreat from these friends she’d made, like she was so used to… It wasn’t right anymore. She was different. This world was different. She wouldn't cower and retreat into the shadows. She wouldn't slip out the front door and run down the street.

She wouldn’t let it go without a fight.

"Alright," she said after a long pause, her voice resolute. "Let’s give it a shot."

Aldric’s grin grew even wider, and he stood up, offering his hand in a mockingly formal gesture. "Fake girlfriend it is. Shall we seal the deal?"

Elizabeth laughed, taking his hand as she stood. "This is going to be ridiculous, isn’t it?"

"Absolutely," Aldric said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But trust me, it’ll be fun."

As they shook on it, like two men normally would, Elizabeth felt a sense of relief wash over her. Maybe this crazy plan of Aldric’s would work. Maybe, for once, she wouldn’t have to worry about being on the outside.

The girls were her friends, she concluded. She wanted to keep them. Even after what they'd said about her. These past few months had been so much fun with them around. She didn’t care that they had been so cruel. All she wanted was for everything to go back to normal. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be someone’s girlfriend—especially Aldric’s—wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

“Greengrass is spending an awful lot of time with that Shafiq,” Dorian Nott whispered. His soft voice was already quiet, but he was speaking so lowly Tom could hardly hear him.

Tom didn’t dein this with a response. He didn’t care of Aldric Shafiq. He already had Aliena in his pocket. Her friends were his friends. And he’d already ensured that she would be attending the next Slug Club meeting by convincing Slughorn to invite her. Though she avoided Tom as normal, he knew who held the upper hand.

She wasn’t very good at chess.

Tom was.

So some insignificant Ravenclaw seventh year was none of his concern.

Dorian continued, though, not sensing Tom’s disinterest. Or rather, he decided to say the following statement despite Tom’s disinterest.

“They’re going steady.”

Tom froze in place, his quill coming to a halt on the page. He didn’t turn to look over at Nott. He didn’t move a centimeter. Just waited. Dorian continued.

“Apparently they started dating earlier this week. Her friends haven’t shut up about it. He’s taking her to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Nott explained, short and to the point.

Tom nodded once, shortly and so subtly nobody may have noticed if they hadn’t been very in tune with him. Dorian was one of the few who understood his body language well. Nott turned back to the front of the classroom.

Tom shifted, looking down at his lap. He felt strange. His fists clenched so hard they drew blood. He wanted to run out of the classroom. He wanted to yell, or break something. He wanted to hurt someone, he concluded.

That night, he did.

Abraxas was all-too eager to be the subject of his experiments. He attempted legilimency on him again.

Abraxas screamed in pain. Tom wasn’t proficient enough to make it undetectable and painless. And yet, he caught on a particular memory. Aliena and Abraxas in an alcove. Tom wasn’t yet skilled enough to hear her words or Abraxas’ thoughts, but he saw her face. She looked up at Abraxas cheekily, her beautiful silver eyes glimmering. In the memory, Abraxas turned and marched up the stairs.

Tom left Abraxas mind, scraping himself alongside Abraxas’ mental walls as he exited and leaving deep gashes that would take a few days to heal. Abraxas lay on the stone floor, curled in a ball as he shook and whimpered.

”Pathetic,” Tom spat as he stepped over Malfoy’s body.

Dating Aldric was far more overwhelming than Elizabeth ever considered.

For starters, her girlfriends were like a tsunami. They overtook her with questions, demands, and begging for Elizabeth to recount tales or give more details about how exactly this had occured. Elizabeth did her best to conjure a romantic story:

She’d had a crush on Aldric from the beginning, but was too shy to admit it. He charmed her, and when he asked to go steady she readily agreed.

They ate out of her palm without a second thought.

The next wave was from the boys. They were far more interested than Elizabeth would have thought. Edward in particular asked an obnoxious amount of questions that were far more difficult to answer than any of the other ones. But she did. And afterward, they seemed a bit more standoffish than usual. Sometimes she caught them whispering to one another. And when they saw her notice they quickly quieted or changed whatever subject they’d been on. Edward was the quietest of all of them. Maybe he was avoiding her. Elizabeth didn’t care all that much.

Aldric went out of his way to be a gentleman. He sometimes joined her for meals. In these instances, the girls gathered forward around him to pry answers to questions that were growing more and more intrusive. Even though she wasn’t actually dating him, Elizabeth found herself blushing and embarrassed more than half the time.

The boys, in total opposite, diverted themselves ever-so-slightly. They didn’t ask many questions at all, and retreated into their own conversations even when Aldric wasn’t present.

Aldric made it a point to walk her to each of her classes. Even when he was across campus, she’d leave her classrooms only to find him running over huffing and puffing and taking her bag from her hands. The air around them was unusually awkward, which actually fit quite well into the narrative they were attempting to paint. Elizabeth looked up at him with eyes hidden underneath her lashes, and he took her bag with a deep flush that was totally unlike him. Though, she had to admit, with everyone around them watching and whispering it was hard not to be embarrassed. 

Elizabeth had to admit Aldric was a great actor. He was fitfully embarrassed some of the time, and totally suave and gentlemanly at others. He looked to all the world like a kid at christmas, young and in love and excited for what’s to come.

After potions on Thursday, Edward didn’t offer to take her bag for her. Instead, he said, “I suppose your boyfriend will be here any minute,” as they walked toward the door. He sounded rather bitter in tone. He’d been unusually silent during potions.

Elizabeth shifted, trying to ignore it, but the stares and whispers from the other students were starting to get to her. ”Maybe,” she commented.

But sure enough Aldric was there outside the classroom, leaning against the stone wall nonchalantly across from them. Upon seeing her, his face lit up and he approached, taking her bag from her hands. Edward nodded to him and said, “Goodbye,” and then turned on his heel to walk briskly through the dungeons.

“Quick aren’t you?” Elizabeth commented cheekily. It seemed that when Aldric was there it was the only time she actually felt a bit of relief from all the garnered attention, which was ironic since he was the source.

”Always,” he countered, shrugging her bag over his shoulder.

Someone bumped into him roughly. It was Abraxas. ”Oh, didn’t see you there.” he said, sounding a bit vicious.

”No worries,” Aldric said nonchilantly. He had a way about him that was so breezy it was hard to anger.

Elizabeth caught Wulfric and Rodrick’s sneers as they passed, but thankfully they didn’t linger. Not thankfully, Tom and Marius Avery did linger.

”This is my rude cousin, Abraxas,” Elizabeth said pointedly, sending Abraxas a scathing look.

”Aldric Shafiq, good to meet you,” Aldric offered his hand. Abraxas shook it, but quickly with took his hand and not-so-subtly wiped it on his robes.

“This is my boyfriend, Aldric.” Elizabeth emphasized to Abraxas. It took a great deal of self restraint not to look at Tom or Marius as they lingered on the outskirts. Aldric stood behind her, though, and his comforting presence gave her a renewed sense of confidence.

“Two and a half months at Hogwarts and you’re already dating?” Abraxas asked skeptically, looking her up and down. His tone suggested more than enough about the insinuation it carried. Elizabeth felt Aldric step forward behind her, and she firmly grabbed his arm, holding him back.

”Now, don’t be so uncivil, Abraxas,” Tom’s baritone voice cut through. Abraxas stood down, like the dog he was. She didn’t even have to make an effort to forget Abraxas’ kindness from the other day. When he’d warned her about Tom, worry thick in his voice. He didn’t even remember, anyhow. 

“Tom, good to see you,” Aldric said, to Elizabeth’s utter horror. They shook hands. Of course. Jesus help me, fuck, Elizabeth thought.

“Let’s go to class or we’ll be late,” Elizabeth said quickly, dragging Aldric by the arm with her. To her relief, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and fell into step beside her. He leaned into her ear to say, “Don’t worry about your cousin. He doesn’t bother me.”

”Stay away from Tom. He’s no good,” Elizabeth whispered up to him strictly, in gibberish. Aldric looked down at her with scrutiny and confusion.

”Tom?” he questioned, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.

”Yes,” she said strictly back.

“Why?” he asked, surprised.

She grabbed his hand, squeezing it in urgency. ”He’s just bad news, okay?” She asked, desperate for him to just listen. Why did everyone need explanations? Why couldn’t anybody just believe her?

”Okay.” Aldric echoed back, looking over her face, but a hint of curiosity lingered in his tone.

Relief flooded her. She had been right. At least Aldric trusted her enough to just believe her without question or probing.

She smiled up at him, tone softening. "Thank you." 

Tom’s eyes lingered on the new couple as they left. He watched as Aldric Shafiq wrapped his arm around her shoulder and leaned into her ear. His jaw clenched. She reached up and held his hand.

How had this happened? So quickly?
Tom’s mind reeled as they disappeared out of sight. His mask fell to the floor, revealing the dullness of his eyes and the frown pursed on his lips.

”S-should we—?” Marius started, finally cutting in. Tom shoved him harshly. If only because he had spoken and stood too close to him. There were no students around now, just Abraxas and Avery. Avery stumbled into the wall, clutching his shoulder.

“Fuck off, both of you,” Tom said viciously, and he turned on his heel to march the opposite direction toward the Slytherin common room. He had class. He was going the wrong direction. But he didn’t think he could stomach it anymore. He had to get away. He had to hurt something.

Someone.

Tom stumbled into the great expanse of the common room. It was utterly empty— everyone being in class.

The opposite wall was all glass, displaying the murky depths of the Black Lake, with kelp stalks swaying within. The greenish light of the room was the same familiar haze that he was used to. Sleek, polished furniture in black leather and dark wood were arranged with precision. And the fireplaces framed by silver and emerald accents crackled with a low, ever-burning flame.

A black cat murmured a surprised noise and dashed in front of his feet across his path. Tom ripped his wand from his robes and pointed it at the thing.

”Avada kedavra,” he said harshly.

A green light flashed, and the cat collapsed to the floor with a dead weight. It lay there, unmoving with it’s yellow eyes still open wide.

Tom approached the corpse, squatting over to closer inspect it’s expression. It’s mouth was open. The eyes were already growing milky. It's limbs stiff in motion.

Tom smiled, reaching down to hold it’s dead face in his hand and turning it up to face him. He pressed it’s mouth shut and open again as he whispered the false puppeteer words that mocked a high feminine voice, “This is my boyfriend. Isn’t he lovely?”

Tom frowned. He dropped the cat’s head again and it thumped back onto the stone floor. He stood back to his feet and sighed. It wasn’t enough. Still, he couldn’t leave it there.

He kicked the body of the cat as hard as he could. It thumped against the opposite wall into a corner, falling in a curled lump behind a chair. That was good enough, he supposed. Whoever it’s owner was would surely think it died of natural causes. And if they didn’t, who cared? Nobody would suspect the perfect prefect that was Tom Riddle.

He turned and made his way back up to his dorm.

-

Chapter Text

Elizabeth sat cross-legged on her bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, twirling a quill absentmindedly between her fingers.

She’d been studying all afternoon with Natasha. Across the room, Gaia and Saoirse were rifling through the wardrobe, deciding on what to wear for the upcoming Hogsmeade trip. Berniece was lounging on her bed, flipping through an old magazine, but her attention shifted when Elizabeth spoke.

“So…” Elizabeth started, glancing at each of them nervously. “I got an invitation to the next Slug Club meeting.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by a sudden burst of excitement from Gaia. “What? That’s amazing! Slug Club is where all the influential people go. You’ll be rubbing elbows with future ministers and noblemen!”

Saoirse grinned from the wardrobe. “I mean, it’s no surprise, is it?”

Elizabeth chuckled softly, but a shadow of doubt crossed her face. “Yeah, well… It’s really only about my singing, I think. Or at least, that’s all he talked about.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Still, I think I'll say no.”

Berniece arched an eyebrow, putting her magazine down. “Why? It’s an opportunity. Plus, you’ll get to rub it in Abraxas’ face that being in Slytherin isn’t everything.” Her tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity in her eyes.

Elizabeth hesitated. She had been worried about this—how people would react to her sudden acceptance into a club that, traditionally, was reserved for top students or those with exceptional family ties. And then, of course, there was the matter of her new “relationship.”

As soon as Slughorn had asked her, she'd already known her response would be 'no'. But after further contemplation, Elizabeth realized something. She couldn't keep avoiding Tom like this. It wasn't safe to ignore him, as Abraxas had told her. And if she did deny this invitation- an opportunity that other students may kill for- she would raise more suspicion. Who in their right mind would deny such a thing? Unless they were avoiding something. Unless they knew something. 
So as much as she wanted to say no, there was a nagging thought that the correct strategy would be to accept. No matter how much she loathed the idea of spending an afternoon posturing and chin-wagging with Slughorn and his selection of students. 
But Lily Evans had been in the Slug Club, hadn't she? Harry and Hermione too. Maybe there would be other students like them to get to know. Surly not all of them could be the soul-sucking sort that Tom and his friends were. 

“Are you taking Aldric?” Natasha asked excitedly. As always, any conversations were brought back to the newest excitement. Elizabeth and Aldric's relationship.

“Well…” Elizabeth cleared her throat, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t really want our first date to be so… formal.”

Slughorn had offered for her to take a date, which surprised her a bit. She hadn't expected her first Slug Club meeting to be a party. And Aldric wasn't in the club, so he would be going into it just the same as she would-- ignorant. But as much as she did want to bring him, as a familiar face and friend on her side, she couldn't. Keeping Aldric as far away from Tom as possible was the ultimate goal. 

The room went silent for a moment, and then Saoirse nodded in agreement, spinning around to face her. “You're right-- far too much for a first date. At a party no less. Something more.. romantic would be better. What about Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Berniece sat up straighter, looking equally interested.

“I suppose he did ask me…,” Elizabeth gave a slight, awkward smile.

The three girls stared at her, processing the information. Berniece was the first to break the silence, laughing softly. “Poor bloke doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into, does he?”

Elizabeth bit her lip, trying not to laugh. From their perspective Elizabeth was unfamiliar with any tunes of romance, and they weren't even wrong in the slightest. They just didn't know that Elizabeth and Aldric's relationship wasn't romantic at all. “I think he knows exactly what he’s getting himself into.” In fact, he was the one who suggested it— the whole fake-dating thing.

“Maybe you should plan something special, then,” Natasha said.

“For your first date!” Gaia completed, looking a bit giddy at the idea. Despite the things she'd said about Elizabeth, Gaia was the most excited about the ordeal. And not in a faux or jealous way. Her interest was strictly sincere, and Elizabeth was surprised to find her happiness for Elizabeth was held without the least bit of jealousy. 
It confirmed Elizabeth's suspicions that Gaia's jealousy didn't exactly stem from Elizabeth herself, but Edward's attentions. 

Elizabeth tilted her head up, considering. “Yes. Maybe I should…my first date….,” she trailed off. The girls giggled and began to chatter about it, more excited about this reaction than any other they’d yet received from Elizabeth. Elizabeth had been, from the beginning, more quiet and refined about her own feelings or opinions. It seemed the more quiet she got, the more the girl’s seemed to conclude they’d hit a well concealed soft-spot.

“When’s the party?” Berniece asked, sidling up next to Elizabeth. Ever since Elizabeth’s shocking declaration that Aldric and her were going steady, Berniece had taken it upon herself to become Elizabeth’s instructor-of-dating. She often pried about Aldric more than the others, and gave exited hints and tips about being a girlfriend which often led to her talking about Harvey nonstop until somebody inevitably interrupted.

“Friday.”

”Ah, the night before Hogsmeade,” Saoirse said, pressing a scarf up to herself in the mirror.

Elizabeth had to admit, her friends were very useful at times. Berniece in particular gave her some tantalizingly specific strategies on dating. Elizabeth's having a boyfriend separated her from the rest and lead to a different sort of camaraderie— the only two girls dating in their dorm. Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty about lying when it came to this newfound deepenings in her friendships. A friendship that may have been basic in nature became more refined when sharing something in common.

In a similar way that hating the same person brought two people closer together, having a boyfriend brought Berniece closer to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had felt the very moment things shifted between them.

It was the moment Elizabeth’s absence from the group changed from suspicious and offensive to naughty and endearing. The moment Edward and the Slytherin’s actions stopped being overanalyzed or teased about. The moment the girls caught well-rehearsed side-long glances between her and Aldric and gushed about them for the remainder of those days.

It was all of these moments that amounted to one conclusion in particular: her friends no longer held her in the slightest contempt or resentment. Any insecurities she had drifted away with each passionate retelling, gushing about how handsome Aldric was, and voicings of joy about this new development. 

This very conclusion was solidified with Natasha-- the most soft spoken and timid of the bunch. She was the least likely candidate for having such a bold and emotionally open declaration, but at the end of the day Natasha was a Gryffindor just like any of them all.

It happened that earlier afternoon in the library, where Elizabeth spent most of her time these days pouring over her studies.

Elizabeth becoming the closest with Natasha wasn’t on purpose, just a side effect of their similar interests (studying and reading) and quieter dispotions (where Elizabeth was taciturn, Natasha was diffident). It was never unwelcome from the start. And after opening up, Natasha was just as free-spirited and silly as any other girl their age. It was a welcome silliness that Elizabeth indulged herself in with equal measure.

They sat across from each other in a quiet corner. And Elizabeth looked up in surprise when Natasha spoke with such a tenderly uneasy tone.

“You know,” Natasha had said, “I know you overheard them the other day. Gaia and Saoirse talking in our room.”

There was a stark boldness that belonged to Natasha that Elizabeth had grown to expect from her, so Elizabeth’s reaction wasn’t shock or embarrassment. And she felt she could be truly vulnerable with Natasha in a way she only felt with Aldric. If there was a best friend of all the girls, it would be with Natasha. 

“Were you in there?” Elizabeth asked. In the indifferent manner that belonged to herself alone. It wasn’t accusatory or bitter. Not insecure, not upset. As if to say, in itself, ‘I know you are innocent. You are different from them’. Elizabeth hadn't known Natasha had been in the room. And Elizabeth couldn't blame her for not speaking up in her defense-- it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but just as much to stand up to your friends. 

Even Elizabeth found herself failing in this aspect, so she didn't blame Natasha in the slightest at failing too. 

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I was a coward. I… I’m not as brave as I should be… most times.” Natasha said slowly, but the remorse there was true.

”Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Elizabeth asked.

”I didn’t know for sure. If you'd heard. I thought I was just a shadow… and it could have been anybody...” Natasha said, hesitating before continuing, “I just figured it out recently that it was you.”

Natasha was more astute than she let on.

Elizabeth met her eyes in that solitary corner of the library. High stacks of books and bunches of parchment. With ink stained fingers and well-worn quills between them. Had Natasha been struggling to say this the entire time they had been studying? They'd been here easily two hours... That idea softened something in Elizabeth's chest. 

”How?” Elizabeth asked, genuinely curious.

“You’ve been acting strange lately. And now you’re dating Aldric out of nowhere,” Natasha said.

”Out of nowhere?” Elizabeth questioned.

”Well… You just don’t strike me as the type to go steady with someone you’ve only known a month,” Natasha explained, cheeks going red.

“You’ve only known me for two,” Elizabeth pointed out, but the corner of her lip tilted up and her light hearted voice was enough to set Natasha more at ease.

”I know- heh,” Natasha laughed as she trailed off.

But Natasha was coming a bit too close to the truth, so Elizabeth would have to say something. ”It came as a surprise to me too. I don’t- normally date. Actually, I’ve never dated. I don’t exactly know how it works.” she admitted, and it was true. She didn’t. It didn’t really count in her head, though. Because they were pretending.

”I hope you know that… Well, that they don’t hate you. I don’t hate you. It’s just… they’re just jealous. And honestly, it’s hard not to be. You’re so-,” Natasha gestured her hand forward, looking at at table all while she said it. She couldn’t quite meet Elizabeth’s eyes.

”I know,” Elizabeth said quickly, interrupting Natasha in her painful attempt to explain. ”I know… I would be too. I- I’m not stupid,” Elizabeth said, with a light air in her voice that made her seem as if she were joking despite the pain of the subject. She could act aloof all she wanted, but Natasha wouldn’t yield despite it. Natasha knew Elizabeth. The way two quiet people could understand each other more than outgoing people could. 

“Well that’s just it, isn’t it?” Natasha said, finally meeting Elizabeth’s eyes.

They were softer now, and Natasha leaned in as she said, “You’re brilliant. And beautiful, and stylish, and from the sort of- the sort of background any of them- us would kill to be from. You’re any girl's nightmare to waltz into Hogwarts, truly.” Natasha said it with so much sincerity that it pricked in the soft spot in Elizabeth’s heart.

A lump formed in her throat without her consent. Elizabeth could only nod, holding that gaze. Because Aliena’s beauty, her background, her education-- it was even too much to quite understand herself. And because Elizabeth’s own magic was impossible to comprehend.

And somewhere deep down, even Elizabeth’s very own devotion to magic and this incredible world she’d had the privilege of coming into was a force to behold. That never-ending passion and curiosity was quite her own. This lethal combination wasn’t something to be stomached easily. And Elizabeth understood it plainly. Without any sort of resentment at all. Elizabeth could only laugh shortly, because she feared that if she spoke she would cry. At times like this Natasha’s empathy for others feelings was the greatest gift of all.

Natasha spoke to fill that silence that Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to fill. She told the tale of Elizabeth coming to Hogwarts, from her own perspective. How she sang, and how students loved her. How the Slytherin boys- who the girls and the entirety of Hogwarts had coveted despite the stone walls they kept around themselves- begged for Elizabeth’s attention. How even the great Tom Riddle seemed to be infatuated with her. How the boys who the Gryffindor girls had spent their entirety at Hogwarts alongside seemed to bend toward Elizabeth like flowers in the sun. How professors doted on her. How her wardrobe was positively to die for, and how before Elizabeth’s coming they had played inept hands at fashion or popularity.

“Now that you’re here, even the Slytherin girls can’t string to words together against our clothes. I mean truly, you’re incredible. A diamond in coal. I know this sounds… Rather gauche. I don’t mean to flatter you with pretty words or pathetic explanations. But I do want you to know, that you are our friend. And it’s not because of you’re pretty clothes, your voice, or how much you help me in Charms-,” Elizabeth laughed, the tears pricking at her eyes like needles. Natasha reached her small soft hand across and squeezed her’s.

“It’s because you listen to Gaia and Saoirse’s lamenting about their infatuations without judgement. Because you jive with Terra about quidditch, despite how much I know you find it boring. Because you smile and laugh with Berniece when she’s obnoxiously vulgar as she talks about Harvey. Because you study with me and talk me down from hysteria about schoolwork. You seem to do everything without a moment of hesitation or resentment. For us. And I do hate you for it, really.” Natasha said, as she squeezed her hand again. Now, Natasha’s eyes were watering in the same way Elizabeth’s surely were.

Elizabeth and Natasha laughed shortly, and she continued. “And I love you much more for it. You’re unlucky to have friends like us, really.”

”I’m not unlucky,” Elizabeth said quickly, shaking her head. “I’m not.”

”You are,” Natasha said firmly. “We’ll never be so great as you are, and we’re stupid on the trek to realizing that you don’t seem to care at all despite our faults.”

Natasha was always quite. That scar across her cheek gleamed and caught the single tear that fell from her eye in it. Elizabeth hadn't dared to ask what it was from. Now, she wished she had the courage.

”I’m— I’m actually rather lucky, Natasha. I’m lucky I was sorted into Gryffindor. I’d prefer to be here over anywhere else. And I’m happy to have the opportunity to be your friend.”

Natasha scoffed and playfully threw Elizabeth’s hand away, wiping her cheek. ”You’re too kind for your own good.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You’re too self-deprecating. You don’t realize how incredible you are, really.”

Natasha took in her compliment. And rather than passing it off as Natasha normally would when Elizabeth tried to compliment her, she nodded.

“Nobody else knows. The things you heard and the way you forgave us without apology. But I do. I’m sorry, Aliena. I’m sorry.”

Elizabeth watched as Natasha looked down, holding the edges of the table firmly. Her long black hair covered her face, but Elizabeth still caught the tear that fell and the shake in her voice.

”You didn’t do anything, Natasha. I know you didn’t say anything.” Elizabeth said.

”Saying nothing is as good as joining in.” Natasha said with conviction.

”I don’t care. I forgive them too.”

”I hate you,” Natasha said firmly, but it rather sounded like ‘I love you’.

Elizabeth laughed shortly again, her lump having vanished from her throat and tears receding without ever having fallen. ”I hate you, too,” Elizabeth said affectionately.

“You didn’t date him just to-… just because of that, right?” Natasha asked hopefully, desperately. As if she couldn’t bear the possibility.

“No,” Elizabeth said with a light laugh. “Of course not.” It was a lie, but Elizabeth was so good at lying now. And Natasha seemed to take it in with a relief that would blind whatever suspicion or ability to see otherwise.

”I didn’t think so, but… Well I had to ask. It is rather convenient, though. After the girls found out they felt positively stupid. Of course, they shouldn’t have needed that to know they’d been stupid, but…”

”It’s alright. I understand. Truly, I do.” Elizabeth said. Natasha nodded, finally picking up her quill and dipping it into the ink.

And so they studied. And then later had found themselves in the dorm rooms where Berniece now was giving Elizabeth some tantalizing advice about how to subtly flirt without coming off as a whore. Saoirse was switching out her scarf for a new one, babbling to Gaia about the color. And Natasha across from Elizabeth, meeting her gaze with a small, knowing smile. Elizabeth returned it, and that conversation from earlier rippled between them.

None of the other girls knew the wiser, and Elizabeth was glad to find there needn't be any great confrontation or apology to reconcile the rift that had grown between her and these teenage girls who didn’t know any better.

That night Elizabeth slipped away to the Room of Requirement to meet Aldric. The girls now never allowed her to leave after curfew without looking presentable. Now that they knew exactly with whom she was meeting, and what that meant (in their eyes). They adored it even more.

Elizabeth entered the Room of Requirement with her hair tied back in a white ribbon and her cheeks patterned with a slight rouge.

Aldric was playing the piano, so she entered quietly and listened for a moment. She didn’t think he’d heard her enter until he turned in his seat after he finished and asked, “What do you think?”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded. ”Brilliant, as always.”

She sat in an armchair, pulling at one of the books from the top of a pile stacked next to it. The books in the room seemed to have increased. This one was the muggle sort, on the subject of guitars. She smiled at it, and opened to the first page.

”What’s got you in such a good mood?” Aldric asked as he took his regular place in the sofa next to her.

Elizabeth looked up from her book with a smirk. ”It’s working,” she said, sounding more excited than she’d meant to.

”Is it? Have you received concedes of defeat from admirers in the post?”

Elizabeth laughed shortly. “No, of course not. I wasn’t ever really about that.”

”Then what was it about?” Adric asked with a raised brow.

“Natasha and I spoke in the library today. She apologized.”

”And did the rest of them?” Aldric asked skeptically.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned her gaze back to her reading. ”No. But I don’t need them too.”

”Don’t need them to?! They gossiped about you!” Aldric said, sounding more passionate than was usual. It tore Elizabeth’s eyes back up to read his expression.

”They don’t know I heard them. And their change in attitude is indicative enough.”

“You didn’t know they were speaking poorly of you before. How should you know now?” Aldric demanded. He was sitting up now, which was very unlike him. He normally lounged longly and casually. Elizabeth felt like his tone was getting rather accusatory.

“I don’t need to. They think we’re a couple, and their silly ideas of jealousy are gone to the wind.” Elizabeth said simply.

“And who's to say that? Natasha?” Aldric demanded.

”Is this an interrogation?” Elizabeth snapped, finally breeching into his sharp-toned territory.

”Yes. You don’t seem to understand the viciousness of women.”

”You are a boy. Do you mean to tell me you know better about my own sex than I?” Elizabeth asked, voice dangerously steady.

Aldric didn’t seem to care, and plowed on. ”You’re being naïve!”

”You don’t know anything about them. I don’t need an apology from the rest of them. Natasha and I talked, and that’s that.”

”Oh, Natasha and you talked. Natasha Dunn, the one that sits in the corner?”

”Don’t. speak ill of my friends.”

“Oh you mean the friends who readily ridiculed you behind your back?!” Aldric demanded.

He was being too passionate— it didn’t suit his character. Elizabeth didn’t like it. ”Who are you to care?”

”Who am I? Who am I?! I’m the one who you’ll come crawling to with tears in your eyes when they inevitably wrong you again!”

Elizabeth recoiled, a sneer on her lips. Aldric saw her expression, and withtook himself just slightly.

“So this is how you see me? Someone who came crawling to you?” Elizabeth said. Her voice grew unnaturally steady when angry, rather than raising in passion. She snapped her book shut and it reverberated throughout the room. Her ability to be angry softly was the sort of trait that used to unsettle even her own parents during arguments.

Aldric surrendered with the subtlety of her impenetrable tone. ”I’m your friend,” Aldric said softly. “I don’t want you to get hurt, is all.”

Elizabeth took this in and settled back a bit. ”I understand. Thank you, but I can handle my own affairs.”

Aldric bristled and picked up a random book. He flipped through the pages too quickly to be reading, but they sat in silence as Elizabeth perused her own book. The hostility between them slowly unfurled with time.

And eventually, Aldric spoke again.

“So do you want to call it off, then? Now that you’re mission is complete.” Aldric blurted. He sounded frustrated, as if he’d been narrating this thought in his head all the while.

Elizabeth chortled. ”It’s been less than a week. If you want to, we can. But I think a bit more time would be more fruitful.”

”Fruitful.” Aldric echoed.

”What?” Elizabeth asked, genuinely curious.

Aldric didn’t say anything, though. Elizabeth sighed longly. ”Aldric, thank you for your concern. But girls gossip often. It’s normal to get into tiffs with one another, and then be over it the next day.” This was sounding dangerously like a conversation she’d had with Abraxas over the summer.

”Oh, is it?” He asked in annoyance. 

”It is.”

”Doesn’t sound like genuine friendship to me.” Bitterness. 

”Oh, and you’ve never talked poorly about your friends in your life?” Elizabeth countered.

”Only to their faces.” Aldric said.

“Well, boys and girls are hardly the same.”

”If the friendship you seek is so superficial then-,” he started, sounding dangerously angry again.

“Then I have you for some non-superficial friendship.” Elizabeth completed before he could escalate once more into an argument Elizabeth didn’t care for.

Aldric was silenced by this, though. For a good moment.

He slowly looked back to his own book. It was upside down and he hadn't even noticed. 

”As long as you know it.” Aldric said, sighing and laying his head back in that familiar relaxed composition he normally had.

Elizabeth smiled to herself as she read.

”You don’t gossip about me, do you?” Aldric asked finally, his voice sounding much lighter and more playful.

”Oh yes, all sorts of things.” Elizabeth said sarcastically.

”About my handsomeness?” Aldric countered cheekily.

”And you’re passion to keep me safe from the viciousness of teenage girls.” Elizabeth added. 

Aldric laughed aloud.

Elizabeth stood outside Slughorn’s office, clutching her invitation tightly as nerves fluttered in her stomach. The ornate door was slightly ajar, and she could hear the low hum of conversation from within.

She took a deep breath and straightened her robes, reminding herself that this was all part of the plan—she had to do this, in order to fit in. Slughorn had invited her, and despite how much she desired to decline the invitation, it wouldn’t fit into the narrative of “average student” she was going for. Of course, average students weren’t invited to the Slug Club. Still, somehow (despite her inadequacy in potions) Slughorn had asked her. She could suspect why. Perhaps it was Slughorn pitying her for her position as orphan heiress. Or her blood-status. For her place in the house of Malfoy.

Maybe it was really just about her talent and voice. But deep down, Elizabeth knew of another, more clear possibility. Tom Riddle surely sat beyond that door. And the rest of his Knights. And he had Slughorn wrapped around his finger. 

And so she couldn’t have rejected the invitation. She had to go, in order to prove a point. The point that she was in innocent student at Hogwarts with no idea the den of vipers she was entering. The point that she didn’t care about them at all.

As she stepped inside, the warmth of the room greeted her immediately. The long, polished table in the center was set with an elegant spread of tea, cakes, and crystal goblets that shimmered under the glow of the enchanted chandeliers. Around the table, a handful of students were already seated, talking animatedly. Slughorn stood near the head, beaming as he poured tea for one of the older students.

“Ah! Miss Greengrass!” Slughorn’s voice boomed out as he spotted her. “So pleased you could join us! Come, come, sit next to me, won't you?”

Elizabeth smiled politely and made her way toward the empty seat next to Slughorn. As she passed, she noticed a few familiar faces from her year—students who were far more academically gifted or had impressive connections, unlike her. Tom Riddle of course, sat near the far end of the table with his Knights decorated around him. His dark eyes met hers for a brief moment, unreadable, before he turned back to his conversation. She forced herself not to shiver under his gaze.

“Now, I’m sure you all know of Miss Greengrass,” he said to the circle of students surrounding him. Prefects, Quidditch captains, and even a few up-and-coming business heirs. It screamed nepotism with a hint of raw talent. Everyone seemed to know their place here, comfortable in their achievements and future prospects. Elizabeth, on the other hand, felt somewhat out of place. But she knew better than to let it show.

They nodded to her in greeting over the dull lull of voices chattering in the room. A girl, a Hufflepuff that Elizabeth didn’t recognize, said, “Yes, I adored your performance at the Bonfire.” A few others nodded and spoke their praises.

Elizabeth thanked them gracefully, but it was Slughorn who preened. ”Yes, Aliena here is quite the talent. You will be performing for us tonight, won’t you?”

And there was the insinuation that Elizabeth had known was both inevitable and the very cause of her invitation. Elizabeth said, “Of course, Professor Slughorn. As long as it’s your request.”

“Of course! I simply must hear all the fuss!” Slughorn said jovially. Elizabeth nodded with a shy smile, looking around at the room but distinctly ignoring the stifling presence at the end of the table.

“A bit of artistry among all these future politicians and diplomats—just what we need! But first, some refreshments!” He clapped, and the table bloomed.

It was already flooded with the tea and food from earlier, which many of the students had already indulged in. But now, the goblets filled with bubbling champagne and the table littered with crystal decanters of variously colored liquids. Slughorn tapped his goblet with his fork as he stood, and all the students quieted and looked over.

"Welcome, welcome, my dearest pupils!" he began, his voice thick with enthusiasm. "It is always a pleasure to gather the members of my most exclusive Slug Club together. All my brightest pupils in one room once more!”

He looked around the table, his smile widening as his eyes twinkled with pride. "Each of you, I daresay, has talents that shine in ways others might overlook. Whether it’s in potions, politics, Quidditch, or—" his gaze briefly flicked to Elizabeth, "—the arts. I’d like to introduce you all to our newest member, Aliena Greengrass.” They all looked to her now. In that moment, Elizabeth could recall a time in which she may have flushed at the attention. Now, with every way in which her life had changed, she couldn’t possibly muster up any semblance of embarrassment at attention. She smiled at them and nodded as each student appraised her.

She met Abraxas' eyes across the room. He was looking at her with an impassive gaze. But if she wasn’t mistaken, something glimmered in his eyes. Was it pride? Respect?

”Now let us all enjoy tonight’s festivities. And later, I daresay our very own Miss Greengrass will graciously grant us all with one of her infamous performances.”

The room murmured in excited voices, turning to one another to whisper or send delighted looks.

"Let’s not keep our plates, or drinks, waiting! Shall we? We have much to discuss!”

But nobody broke out into their food or drink quite yet. Instead, they all turned to the other head of the table. In expectation. Tom stood, holding up his goblet. “To Professor Slughorn,” he said. They all held up their goblets, clinking them together in cheers and taking sips before falling into chatter again. Slughorn, who had sat back down, couldn’t hid that glimmer of enjoyment. 

Elizabeth answered the questions of the students around her. About her music, mostly. About her past, somewhat. And Slughorn joined in often, asking questions of his own. Slowly, students filled and refilled their goblets with the elixirs at the table. Slughorn was milking his own container of amber liquid, growing pink in the face as the night stretched on. Elizabeth thought about how much more often students and professors got drunk than she’d imagined they would. Perhaps it was a product of the time. 

Eventually, Slughorn couldn’t take the suspense. He said, “Miss Greengrass, would you grace us with your singing? I fear we are in need of some entertainment.” Elizabeth nodded an affirmation, and stood.

She hadn't thought to bring her guitar that night, but in preemptive preparation there was already a glimmering black acoustic displayed on a stand. It wasn't her own, and Elizabeth wondered if Slughorn had gone so far as to buy one. He must have been deeply looking forward to her performance. 

As Slughorn stood and walked forward, and the rest of the students followed in suit. They gathered around the corner Elizabeth had made for herself near the guitar. 

The curious eyes of the Slug Club members were on her now, expectant. Some already whispered in excitement. She could feel Slughorn’s eyes twinkling, his flushed face still adorned with that indulgent smile.

She gave a small nod, strumming a few notes to check the tuning, and the room fell into an attentive hush. She had performed many times before, but there was always a particular thrill to it. The weight of being observed, of standing in front of others who expected something extraordinary. And this room was far more intimate in their observation than the great crowd of the Halloween Bonfire or the Gryffindor common room.

“Thank you Professor Slughorn, for taking me into your club. There are some faces I recognize, and other’s I’m glad to meet.”

They nodded back their approval, and she met Abraxas’ eyes again. His blonde head was hard to miss. He held his goblet close to his chest, and was watching in curiosity and appraisal.

“This is a song was written…,” she met Abraxas’ gaze, “For somebody I know...”

She strummed slowly at first, and then began.

The song started with a slow build, and then her velvety deep voice joined in with the strumming of the tune. As her voice stretched its paws over the room, it was almost like she’d cast a spell on them with her very music. Cigarette smoke began to puff into the space, even Slughorn lighting up a long metallic pipe and puffing out with a muffled cough.

The room fell into a hazy warm glow, with some students walking about to linger or otherwise standing to watch with respectful attention. Still, the lyrics were held onto with bated breaths.

Elizabeth painted a picture of wealthy, privileged teens detached from reality and everything that came with it. Emptiness and isolation, covered by the material masks of consumerism to cover the void of neglectful childhoods and disingenuine friends. It told a tale of being a mindless puppet, playing at perfection. Friends who use you. Parents who dislike you. A life with nothing and everything at once.

As she finished the song, the crowd clapped their praises in a much more refined manner than any of her performances yet had. She nodded her thanks and smiles graciously, setting her guitar down and meeting the expectant faces of students whom she’d just met. 

A small gathering immediately surrounded her of eager students wanting to know her better. Slughorn joined them in praising her, in their questions, and then inevitably in their steady boredom as the subject became overly-saturated. Slughorn finally drifted away, and so did her conversation with these students she had just met. Onto more interesting things-- their families, their goals, their likes and dislikes. 

Slowly, ever-so-slowly. Elizabeth, just like the subject of her singing, drifted into the background. An echo of a voice disappearing into the crowd of bigger and better things. And she did so with a deeply-sewn satisfaction.

Tom watched Abraxas’ face screwed into a harsh scowl. He was utterly upset. The subject of his disdain was the same to Tom’s own subject of disdain.

Aliena Greengrass.

Her lyrics were targeted. And cruel, if Tom were to think on them. They were utterly close to home for Abraxas. For any of them. And she sang them with eyes that lingered on her cousin. A tale about a puppet with multiple masters. A lament of powerlessness that was well-bred and glamorized. Tom had thought these things himself of all of his followers. He’d used them to his advantage. He himself was one of the puppet masters. But this song was an overt declaration.

After she finished, Tom allowed her to melt into the cloud of smoke and awed faces and didn't push himself forward to meet her. Instead...

”That was…,” Tom trailed off.

”Insolent.” Alphard finished for him.

All his Knights, and some other Slytherins including Walburga Black and Amabel Rosier, were gathered together in their usual manner. Seperate from others, and mingling only with their own crowd.

“Was she singing to you, Abraxas?” Walburga asked. A slight, cruel smile on her lips. While the song had been on par for any given person here, she didn't mind that Aliena's eyes had consistently trailed back to Abraxas. Her pointed words cutting deep. 

Abraxas bristled, and said nothing with his own scornful expression speaking for him.

”She should be taught a lesson,” Wulfric said, his brutish face looking hungry for some sort of action.

“I don’t-..,” Amabel said, hesitating with a harrowed look in her eyes. But she couldn’t quite voice her words.

”Don’t. All in due time, my friends. In due time.” Tom assured. They all looked to him with relief and curiosity alike. Wondering what Tom had brewing beneath the surface of his mind. Wondering what he was thinking. They were always greedy for that information.

And still, utter trust remained. Trust that Tom himself would take care of it. Abraxas shifted on his feet, draining his glass.

Later during the party, among different conversation, Abraxas shuffled closer to Tom and nodded in a subtle gesture. Tom followed him in the direction Abraxas led— just far away for no strained ears to hear.

”Don’t-… She’s a wretched fool, but please don’t… hurt her.” Abraxas struggled with his words.

”Whyever not? That was clearly a disrespectful display. She was singing about you. About us.” Tom hissed, blowing on the fire of anger in Abraxas' heart. However, it didn’t spread like the wildfire he’d wanted for.

”I know. She’s ignorant. A good-for-nothing cousin. But she is family nonetheless. I will have a word with her privately. I’ll handle it myself.” Abraxas said.

”And who are you to handle it?” Tom asked dangerously. It wasn’t Abraxas’ place to make requests of Tom, or to handle jobs he’d deigned for himself.

”I’m her cousin, Tom. She’s been through things- things none of us could imagine. I just ask… Please let me handle it myself?”

”You soften for her despite that earlier display? Are you forgetting what she sang? What she insinuated?”

”No,” Abraxas said quickly, and his eyes were desperate. “No. I know. I know but-, my father… he tasked me with watching over her this year. Keeping her in line. Keeping her safe.”

“Well you’re not doing a very good job, are you?” Tom pushed. Normally all it took was one word for Abraxas to lower his head in agreement. Something about Aliena was pushing Abraxas into territory he didn’t belong.

Just another thing for Tom to hate about her.

”Tom-,” Abraxas started, but with that scathing cold glare, Abraxas corrected himself in a hushed shaky whisper, “My lord.”

”Do you forget to whom you speak? Need I remind you?” Tom asked slowly, looking down on Abraxas with those fathomless eyes. A shiver ran down Abraxas’ spine. At the insinuation. The memory of past lessons.

Abraxas shook his head quickly, looking to his feet.

Tom leaned into his ear and whispered, “I decide what tasks to handle. I decide whom I keep in line.” He leaned back and met Abraxas blue eyes, filled with fear and dread. “She’s your cousin, as you say. A member of the Malfoy house. And given that, she is mine to handle. Run along.”

Abraxas made his exit eagerly. But his shoulders still sagged in defeat.

Tom stood back, taking a swig of his champagne, and watching the group of gathered Slytherins conversing together. All of them, beautiful and wealthy and supreme. His eyes flicked over to Aliena, standing amongst others.

She was the only one in the room who would fit in quite well in appearance to his own collection of elite. And yet, there she stood, with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in a cloud of smoke as she laughed respectfully to one of their jokes.

Yes, he thought. She would fit in quite well. If he could pluck her from the crowd and set her among his collection, he would.

And he will. In due time.

He could picture it now...

In time, the only songs she would sing would be ones of his design. The only parties she would attend would be of his choosing. The challenge was tantalizing. He could kill her, yes, but then the challenge would disappear like the very smoke he watched drift toward the vaulted ceiling.

She would be the sweetest of trophies in his growing collection. And no longer did Tom Riddle want to end the life of Aliena Greengrass. No, he wanted to hold it in the palm of his hand— now and forevermore.

And to get to that? What would he have to do? In what sort of creative ways would he have to press at her? He’d never handled a task so daunting as Aliena. Murder was one thing. Even creating Horcruxes— splitting his soul. These were now simple in comparison to the daunting task that was her. She seemed to see right through him in a way only Dumbledore could. He couldn’t simply manipulate her like he could to others. He would have to create a greater plan. One long and extensive, missing no cracks or crevices.

A plan, he decided, that would start with that insolent boyfriend of her’s-- Aldric Shafiq.

It was on that night that Tom Riddle made a mental mark. A mark for decay and doom.

It was on that night that Tom Riddle decided Aldric Shafiq must die.

“I think it went quite well.” Elizabeth said to Aldric the next morning as they tracked through the first snow of the season when he asked about the Slug Club meeting the night prior.

She’d awoken early that morning. Far too early for her liking, but it was hard to ignore the four teenage girls who piled on top of her squealing and cheering for her to wake up. Elizabeth tried to throw them off, but their laughter shook the bed and Elizabeth wound up dragged to her vanity bleary eyed and ruffled.

They did her up beautifully. The girls had decided her outfit of their own accord— a light grey set of robes that complimented her eyes well. They adorned her in silver and styled her overnight curls beautifully to cascade down her back in a half-up hairstyle adorned in flowers. She felt utterly overdressed that morning, and when the girls split off in the courtyard to greet the Gryffindor boys and Elizabeth diverted to Aldric, she felt extremely embarrassed. She could hear her friends excited whispering and chittering— all their gazes on her as Aldric looked up from the alcove he was slumped over a book in.

Aldric reacted appropriately, to Elizabeth’s great relief. He played a great picture of his breath catching as he took her in, quickly standing and smoothing himself over before approaching her. Elizabeth looked up at him with cheeks pink and a shy smile of embarrassment.

“You look… beautiful.” Aldric said, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you,” and took his arm.

It had snowed the night before during the middle of the night. The ground was littered with a small layer, but the paths had turned to muddy slush and it wasn’t enough powder to ball into anything at all. It just spread a soft white glow over the trees and landscape, melting with the morning light.

Aldric and Elizabeth’s breaths steamed into clouds as they spoke.

Thankfully, her friends were far ahead of them. Yet, they still looked back and turned to each other talking loudly and joking. They were too far to hear anything distinguishable, but Elizabeth knew they were talking about her and Aldric.

“What did you sing?” Aldric asked, back to her declaration that the Slug Club party had gone well last night.

“Just some song about Abraxas.”

Aldric scoffed. “That can’t be good,” he concluded. Aldric had already heard plenty about Elizabeth’s feelings about Abraxas and how foolish he was. He’d listened to her rants about the Slytherin pompous prats who painted themselves superior to the world.

”It was perfect,” Elizabeth said enthusiastically.

”I can imagine. Would you show me tonight?” he asked.

Elizabeth mulled for a moment before responding, “Tomorrow, not tonight. Everyone will be busy interrogating me for the next twenty four hours.”

Aldric laughed heartily in delight. ”Well I hope so.”

A moment after his laughter died into the easy silence between them, she spoke. ”Thank you…,” Elizabeth said, in soft admittance. “I know this must be inconvenient for you.”

“Inconvenient?” Aldric questioned in light surprise.

“I mean-,” she gestured with her free hand, “The whole," her voice came down to a soft whisper, "fake-dating thing. I know my friends are as obnoxious as ever but, I’m sorry.”

”Sorry? Whatever for?”

”Well… I know it’s annoying. I’m sure you could be doing better things with your time,” she admitted guiltily. 

Aldric laughed. ”Never! This is the best possible thing to be doing with my Saturday.” And his happy-go-lucky attitude could never be so true. 

Elizabeth grinned and playfully bumped into him. He bumped back. ”Thank you anyhow,” she said. 

”Anytime, Greengrass.”

They spoke of other things. Aldric’s mother, who had sent him a letter recently. His father, who had apparently made a breakthrough in his job as a potions master. His friends, who were positively ruthless in their teasing about Elizabeth. Elizabeth asked him if he ever thought to tell them the truth— that they were fake dating. ”Why would I ever tell them that? I’ve already told my mother we’re dating!” Aldric said cheekily. Elizabeth punched his arm and he laughed and ran ahead as she chased after him. ”You did not tell your mother!”

Aldric turned and let her catch him. Elizabeth grabbed his wrists and looked up at him with an incredulous expression tainted by the careless smile Aldric always evoked from her with his easy humor.

“I did!” She declared through his laughter.

”Why?!” Elizabeth demanded in exasperation, detecting the truth in his eyes.

Aldric leaned forward just slightly. “Because it’s funny!”

And Elizabeth laughed at his absurdity. Aldric fell into her laugher easily just as soon as they once again fell into step together.

“She’ll be asking about you for years now. I’ve never told her about a girl, even about my real girlfriends,” Aldric said cheekily.

Elizabeth actually knew a lot about his well-endowed past with girls. He had five ex-girlfriends already, which Elizabeth thought was absurd since he was only seventeen. The way he spoke of them, not quite remembering their names without thoughtful recollection, made Elizabeth come to the conclusion that perhaps Aldric was the playboy rumors amounted him to.

”You’re evil.” Elizabeth commented, but was stifling a poorly-concealed grin. He was so absurd sometimes it made no sense whatsoever. He did anything to get a good laugh.

”She’d love you,” Aldric responded.

”She’ll hate me when she learns the truth.” She vollied back.

”You’d charm her with your laments about muggle novels.” Aldric assured, as if this was a very true reality.

”If I ever meet her, I’d hope she could forgive me.” Elizabeth added.

”You will. Meet her, that is.” Aldric assured.

”Oh, will I?” Elizabeth said with a short laugh. He was being more absurd than normal.

”Definitely.”

And then Elizabeth’s joyful mood was shattered. They had breached the edge of Hogsmeade. Students lingered around, conversing and chasing after one another. Some boys attempted to gather snow into balls. When they failed, they’d taken to instead lopping slushy mud at one another with shrieks and hollars. It was everything Elizabeth loved about Hogsmeade. But then there was a familiar form leaning against a lampost. Tom Riddle was talking to two girls, both in Slytherin.

He hadn’t yet seen her, but her mood had already turned sour at the sight of him. Aldric traced her line of sight. ”Wow, you really hate him don’t you?” Aldric said lightly, as if this amused him greatly.

Elizabeth’s face snapped up to him. She’d scorned Tom Riddle plenty of times in private by now— highlighting her disdain for him in particular when she spoke of the Slytherin boys whom she all hated. Aldric had questioned this at the time, but hadn’t taken it in great offense or question to Elizabeth’s relief. At least Aldric wasn’t so disillusioned by Tom’s dazzlement to object like her other friends did.

“He’s the worst of them, I’m telling you,” Elizabeth said, grabbing Aldric’s arm firmer now as she somewhat dragged him a bit downward. This was against every word Berniece had told her in her advice about boyfriends: 'act aloof and as if you have somewhere better to be. Less is more.' But Elizabeth didn’t exactly care, since Aldric wasn’t her real boyfriend. So manners and propriety were out the window. He was her friend after all.

“Didn’t he ask you to Hogsmeade this weekend?” Aldric asked, recollecting the story Elizabeth had told him about the last time she’d been in Hogsmeade.

Elizabeth groaned, rolling her eyes. ”Who knows what he’s plotting in that nasty head of his?” Elizabeth spat back.

Aldric chuckled. ”He’s probably just got a crush on you,” He reasoned.

Elizabeth sneered, which lead to Aldric laughing again. ”You’re cruel.” Aldric commented.

”I’m a good judge of character. Now come on, where are you taking me? The Three Broomsticks?” She said, standing up straighter and looking at him as they got ready to pass Tom.

”Don’t be absurd, that’s no good for a first date. Madam Puddifoot's is more like it.”

“Ugh- Really? But it’s so-…” Elizabeth trialed off. It was so lovey dovey. She’d actually never even laid eyes on the tea shop in real life, but had heard plenty of Harry’s hatred for the place when she’d read the books growing up.

”Perfect.” Aldric concluded, sending her a sideways glance as he set his free hand over her’s, which still cradled his arm.

”You’re-,” she started, getting ready to play with another insult for him, but he cut her off swiftly.

“The lucky bloke who has the privilege of taking you for your first ever date.” Aldric said. He sounded so soft and kind as he said it that Elizabeth faltered.

After a moment of Elizabeth staring up into his eyes in shock, he craned his head around to look over his shoulder. Before Elizabeth could fall into suit, Aldric hissed at her, “Not yet.” And so Elizabeth pointed her head strictly forward, looking around and wishing she could turn around to look behind at whatever Aldric was. He finally turned to her with a devious triumphant smirk on his face.

Elizabeth finally looked over her shoulder, and Tom’s back was facing her. She looked back to Aldric, agast. That smug look said enough.

”You-!”

”Paint the perfect boyfriend, do I not? He’ll be rolling over in his sleep over that.”

”What did you do?” Elizabeth demanded.

”Just smiled.”

”You-,” she could see it now, Aldric looking over his shoulder arm-in-arm with her to smirk cheekily at Tom’s prying watchful gaze.

Her voice became more hushed and grave. ”There was no need for that. I told you, he doesn’t like me in that way,” Elizabeth repremained.

”I’ve never seen an expression like that on his face before. He’s normally so… put together.” Aldric said curiously.

”It’s a facade. And he doesn’t care, anyhow.”

”If he didn’t care he wouldn’t have looked at me like that.” Aldric said pointedly, still a bit high from whatever wordless exchange he'd had with Tom. It made her stomach clench and pulse quicken. 

Elizabeth sighed, tightening her hold on Aldric’s arm. ”Don’t do anything like that again.”

”Okay~,” he said.

She held him tighter, so he looked down on her. She met his eyes seriously. “I’m not joking. Don’t do anything like that again.” She couldn’t express to him the meaning or reasoning for her fear of Tom, so instead she settled for the hope that Aldric would listen without suspicion. Thankfully, Aldric wasn’t the type to need explanation.

”Okay, okay, I won’t,” he settled, falling a bit from his light attitude but still chuckling. 

They found that Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop was overly romantic. The quaint building was nestled on the cobblestone street, framed by large bay windows that displayed delicate lace curtains. The doorway was surrounded by climbing roses, enchanted to bloom all year round, adding a burst of color to the otherwise muted brown and white scenery.

As Elizabeth and Aldric approached, they could see couples inside sitting at tables, holding hands and whispering in hushed tones. The golden light from inside the shop cast a soft, warm glow onto the street, making it appear as a haven from the cold outside. A little bell jingled as they opened the door, stepping into the sugary sweetness of the tea shop. The atmosphere practically begged them to act the part of a couple.

The interior was frilly, pink, and horrible in every sense of the word. It was all bows, dainty floral teacups, and chandeliers. Elizabeth couldn’t conceal her disdain. While her opinion was largely prejudiced because of Harry, she had to admit that her own opinion didn't fall too short of Harry's.

Aldric caught her expression and laughed heartily, finding a seat at a small table covered in a lace doily and tablecloth.

A woman approached in a frilly pink dress and apron, waving her wand and setting two teacups in front of them. Her cheeks were rosy and hair pinned to her head in curls reminiscent of the 1920s.

“What can I get you lovebirds?” She asked in a squeaky, breathy voice. Betty Boop? Elizabeth had to stifle her laughter.

Aldric swiftly covered it with their orders, “Just some tea and sandwiches.”

“Of course!” the woman said, and she waved her wand. A three tiered serving plate appeared along with a tea set that magically lifted and poured two generous cups before them. Aldric nodded this thanks and the woman drifted away to the next couple. Elizabeth’s eyes caught on the display before her— scones and small cakes and cucumber sandwiches. She reached for a sandwich gratefully. She hadn’t had breakfast yet.

The door chimed, and Aldric leaned forward with wide eyes. ”You’ll never guess who's just come in,” he whispered as Elizabeth put two sugar cubes in her drink and began to pour in cream. 

Elizabeth’s stomach plummeted at Aldric's tone.

She’d naïvely thought this was the one place she could successfully avoid Tom Riddle. But he never failed to ruin a good time. She sighed and poured a bit of cream into Aldric’s cup for him. Just a bit, no sugar— just how she knew he liked it. He took the cup in his and and drank from it gratefully, if a bit distractedly.

She met Aldric’s eye as the tall dark form impeded her peripheral vision.

“Why hello there. Fancy seeing you here,” A feminine voice said.

Elizabeth turned her gaze to find Geneva Avery in all her decadent beauty. Her round face and full mouth looked beautiful framed by the pale delicate bun she wore, and her pink robes brought out her supple pale skin.

Her shrill voice, though, was nauseating. Maybe that was just her own bias. Elizabeth’s gaze trailed over to Tom, who watched her carefully down his nose and well-manicured hair.

“Geneva, Tom. Fine morning,” Elizabeth commented, taking a sip of her tea in disinterest.

”It is, isn’t it? How do you do, Shafiq?” Tom asked, nodding his head. Aldric nodded his head back. Thankfully, Aldric didn’t have the same overly-friendly attitude her Gryffindor friends had with him.

”Very well, Riddle.”

”Not getting yourself into any trouble this year, are you?” Tom asked, with a small boyish smile.

Aldric laughed shortly, as if this was some inside joke. ”Not this year, no. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Great. Just fucking great. They had a past together. Some inside joke Elizabeth didn't know. Aldric had never mentioned it before.

”Aldric and I were just on a date, now.” Elizabeth said, trying to be as dismissive as possible.

Geneva stuck up her nose haughtily. “Another date, Shafiq? It feels like only yesterday you were in here with Quenlin Garter.” Elizabeth had already heard about Aldric’s most recent girlfriend. It came as no surprise— at least none that Geneva sought to evoke.

“Well, that was last year,” Aldric managed, trying not to act so off-guard by the remark. He was not used to the Slytherin way of viciousness. But still, he carried himself with a sharp air that gave him at least a bit of defense.

”Do you mind if we join you?” Tom asked. Elizabeth opened her mouth to deny, but he gestured around the place and said, “Everywhere seems to be taken.” before she could get a word out.

”This place does fill up quickly,” Geneva said joined in quickly, looking around a bit dismayed with her mouth turned down.

”Well-,” Aldric started, and before Elizabeth could let him get anywhere close to agreeing, she cut him off.

”It’s our first date, Riddle. Avery,” she said, appraising them both in turn with a nod that was hopefully dismissive enough.

”Riddle? Since when have we dipped back into old formalities?” Tom asked with a short laugh, looking over to Aldric. “She’s quite shy isn’t she?”

Aldric shifted, uncomfortable to be caught between Elizabeth’s distaste and Tom’s politeness. ”Not in the least,” Aldric said with a small laugh. “Aliena is the least shy person I know.”

And that was quite the reach since in fact Elizabeth was shy often, but he looked into her eyes with a warm smile and Elizabeth felt herself melting a bit. He was so kind sometimes it took her off guard.

”Is she?” Tom pried.

”Only the second time we met she taught me a secret language, didn’t you?” Aldric offered, recalling the memory with happiness. Elizabeth wanted to curl into a ball and die.

”Did you now?” Tom drawled, looking at Elizabeth.

”I’m still shy.” Elizabeth quickly said.

”Lying won’t get you anywhere,” Aldric said in gibberish, displaying their secret language with pride. Geneva blinked in shock and confusion. Tom displayed his confusion better, with a single raised brow and looking toward Elizabeth.

”Ah, can I get you two some chairs?” The tinkling voice of Betty Boop sounded from behind Tom.

“N-,” Elizabeth started, but Tom responded, “Yes, please madam. Thank you very much.” He said with a bow. The woman waved her wand and two chairs appeared along with two more teacups and a more full bounty of food. Elizabeth looked to Aldric with a glare, and Aldric pursed his lips at her and inclined his head resignedly as he shifted his chair around the table to give room. Elizabeth begrudgingly did the same. Tom sat with all the mightiness and smugness of a king on a throne. Geneva sat primly, as if she’d rather be anywhere but here. Elizabeth agreed in her sentiment.

“Look what you’ve done,” Elizabeth said quietly to Aldric in gibberish. He laughed and said back, “How have I done it?”

Tom shifted in his seat, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Now what is that, may I ask?”

“Nothing.” “Gibberish.” Elizabeth and Aldric said at the same time.

They looked to each other, Elizabeth’s gaze more severe than his. He erupted into laughter.

”I didn’t know we were meant to keep secrets,” Geneva said primly as she plopped sugar cube after sugar cube into her tea.

”It’s-,” Elizabeth shifted and cleared her throat, “It’s called Gibberish.” She admitted finally.

”And it can actually be learned?” Tom asked, sounding like the idea was absurd.

”Yes, it’s quite easy,” Aldric admitted. Thankfully, he knew at least not to offer any more endowments or instruction. He instead slid Elizabeth a cheeky gaze. “At least for us.” He added.

Elizabeth smiled to him, nodding in appreciation.

”How long have you two been dating? You certainly paint a pretty picture together.” Elizabeth said finally to Geneva. Her words were carefully directed to strike true. It had the desired effect. Geneva puffed up a bit, cheeks pink. A smug sort of smile and glimmer in her eyes that gave away pleasure at being assimilated as Tom's date.

“Oh, we’re not.” Tom said quickly, and Geneva looked to him quickly, hand’s tightening on her drink. “We were just speaking of how wonderful this parlor was when I admitted I’d never been, and Geneva insisted she take me,” he said, leaning forward as he shifted. A calm but disinterested smile.

He looked to Geneva, that handsome face striking brutally into whatever paper defenses she had. Geneva turned back with a small demure smile, nodding. A bit embarrassed to have been refuted to outright. “Yes, I thought it would be nice for Tom to experience it," she agreed.

Aldric laughed shortly. “A sixth year and you’ve never taken a bird on a date here before? That’s a bit of a surprise.” Knowing Aldric, he’d meant it to sound teasing and aloof. But it came off more as a taunt. And there was that pothole of difference between Aldric and the nobility Elizabeth had journeyed since her beginning at the Malfoy Manor.

”I don’t dally with my affections.” Tom responded, leveling his gaze on Aldric. Aldric blinked and then laughed shortly, the air lighting a tad. “Have you taken all your girlfriends here?” Tom continued. Girlfriends. Plural.

It would have probably hurt, if Elizabeth was actually Aldric’s girlfriend. Tom was making her feel a bit stupid now. Like just another one of Aldric’s many conquests.

"Of course not," Aldric said, shifting uncomfortably. 

Tom’s gaze settled on Elizabeth with a smile. “I’ve yet to have one.”

”Have you? Really?” Aldric asked in great surprise. Tom just shifted his gaze back to Aldric in confirmation.

“Well,” Aldric laughed again shortly, “I’m sure a young lady will catch your eye one day. Surly you’d have your pick when the day comes.” He was saying in a friendly tone that may have played well with a regular person. But then, there was that unspoken air that hung between Elizabeth and Tom. Elizabeth met Aldric’s eyes. Her expression was passive and indicated nothing, but Aldric seemed to have caught onto the realization. The recollection that Tom had asked Aliena to Hogsmeade. This very trip, he’d asked her to go with him. And she’d declined.

And here she was with Aldric instead. With Tom sitting at the table without shame.

“If that day were to ever come,” Tom said, “I’ll be sure to ask you for advice, Aldric.” He used Aldric’s first name in that familiar manner that always had people wanting for more.

”You’re very skilled at dating by now,” Geneva said to Aldric, sidling a look to Elizabeth, “I’m sure you’re advice is well-learned, Mr. Shafiq.”

Aldric leaned back, realizing for the first time the game that was being played. His eyes met Elizabeth’s and he smiled.

“Just a bit of practice. Nothing like the real thing.”

And she felt reassured in that moment. For the first time since the game had started, Elizabeth felt that Aldric had a hand to play of his own.

She smiled at him, and his grin grew.

“So tell me, Tom,” Aldric said, adopting Tom’s first name in the same manner Tom had adopted his. Which was the negative downside of familiarity-- the subject being familiar in return. “What brings you into this parlor with a girl whom you have no intention of courting? Surly you wouldn’t want to give a sweet girl the wrong idea.” He sidled a look over to Geneva, who flushed and looked down at her cup. Elizabeth wanted to leap up and kiss Aldric on the cheek.

”It was never intended to be as such, I assure you. Miss Avery here knows that,” Tom said, glancing over to Geneva. She’d managed to compose herself and nodded in agreement.

How did Tom manage to control people without direct instruction? He was like a ventriloquist. ‘Notice how his mouth never moves. Almost.’

”Just good fun.” Geneva said, sounding rather small.

”Mmm,” Elizabeth hummed. Geneva’s eyes snapped to her’s. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and brought the teacup to her lips.

”So you two are an item now?” Geneva said quickly, looking to Aldric. Aldric nodded, and reached his hand across the table. Elizabeth took it with a well-performed smile of a girl playing with the beginnings of shy love. Geneva’s eyes slid over to Tom as if to say, ‘See?’. But his gaze was lasered in on the joined hands on the table as his body sat with all the stiffness of a statue.

“I’ve never met anybody like Aliena in my life.” Aldric admitted. Elizabeth smiled, looking away shyly.

”Oh really, now?” Tom asked, breaking out of his stupor with languid grace. His voice was dangerously level. It didn’t sound dangerous, per say. But Elizabeth could identify things about Tom now.

The more still he got, the worse standing you were in. Like a snake stilling, coiling, readying to strike.

“She’s the most brilliant girl I’ve ever met.” Aldric said, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand and meeting her eyes. It would have played very well for regular people. It rehearsed well in their planned discussions. Hold my hand and talk about how much you like me, Elizabeth had said mockingly. They’ll love it.

But these weren’t Elizabeth’s friends. And this wasn’t the same as talking to regular people. Aldric didn’t know that the best strategy for Tom was to avoid him at all costs. Because there wasn’t truly any strategy that would satisfy Tom. And Aldric couldn’t possibly comprehend the darkness that lurked in Tom’s soul.

The reason for the Tom’s presence in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop was just as incomprehensible to Elizabeth as anything about Tom was.

As was the next thing he said.

“Brilliant?” Tom scoffed. Aldric froze, his hand stiffening in Elizabeth’s. He turned to Tom. Tom was lounging now. In a similar manner that Aldric did sometimes. In a manner that was totally unlike him, and utterly improper for a man of nobility.

Elizabeth’s eyes flicked to Geneva’s briefly. She looked just as shocked as Elizabeth felt. Tom was reaching for a gun, so to speak. 

”What’s that supposed to mean, Riddle?” Aldric asked, his voice trying to sound light but the hostility behind it thinly veiled.

“Nothing…” Tom trailed off, swirling the tea in his cup, looking rather like the first time Elizabeth had met him in the second library of the Malfoy manor when he swirled the goblet in his hand. They were growing into very dangerous territory. They had to leave. Elizabeth shifted, her hand dropping from Aldric’s to try and pull her chair out. ”Only that-,” Tom cut her off, bringing her to freeze in her seat, “Aliena doesn’t seem all that brilliant to me.” He drawled, as if the idea was very funny and absurd.

Elizabeth wasn't stupid enough to let this anger her. But Aldric bristled visibly. He didn’t have the good appearance to bristle as subtly as all the other Knights of Walpurgis did. He was always unkept and scruffy, but now he just looked like a dirty tomcat rather than anything intimidating. Good, Tom thought. Let’s see how quick to anger you are.

“What?” Aldric asked, his voice deepening.

“Aldric-,” Elizabeth started.

But Tom always sought to ruin a good time. Any good thing. Anything at all, Tom sought to destroy before Elizabeth’s very eyes.

“I just meant-,” Tom said laughing half-heartedly as he leaned forward over the small table and then meeting Aldric’s eyes again, “That Aliena isn’t the brilliant type.” He finished with another laugh.

”What’s that supposed to mean?” Aldric asked again, angrily. Elizabeth tried to set her hand over Aldric’s, which still lay over the table from where she left it. He withtook it quickly, his anger unquenched.

Tom noticed that and smiled with revel, meeting Elizabeth’s gaze. “Well, all girls are the same, are they not? Just means to an end.”

”Means to an end? What are you insinuating, Riddle?” Aldric demanded. Elizabeth clenched her jaw. When Tom spoke, he spoke to Elizabeth, not to Aldric.

“Well, I mean. Take your mother for example-,”

”My mother?” Aldric spat.

Tom continued without care. ”She’s a housewife, is she not?”

”My mother is perfectly intelligent!”

What did intelligence have to do with housewives? Elizabeth didn’t think that made them any less, in her opinion. To be a mother, to dote on children— it wasn’t a sentence for the ignorance. It wasn’t a bad thing. Did… Aldric think otherwise? Her eyes found his angry expression still trained on Tom.

”Oh, I apologize. I didn’t realize your mother had great ambitions. Tell me, what is her occupation? She's not a housewife, then?” Tom finally said, eyes flicking back to Aldric.

”She’s-… She’s none of your concern.” Aldric said, faltering. Faltering was something nobody could do with Tom. Ever.

Tom jumped on the chance. ”Tell me, Aliena-- what are your great ambitions? Do you seek to be a housewife?”

”Aliena is a great musician.” Aldric said firmly. Musician?

”I believe I was asking Aliena. Do you intend to be a musician?” And he was striking a nerve he knew well. He knew she would never seek to be a musician. He knew she only ever sought to be what was expected from her. To be what she’d wanted since she was young, she reminded herself. Before even the Malfoys. She wanted to be a mother. She wanted to be a stay-at-home wife! There was nothing wrong with that!

Aside from her position as an heiress to a great name, or as a member of the Malfoy household. That was what she wanted, all on her own. Before she even came here to this world.

”I want to be a mother. What’s so wrong with that?” Elizabeth demanded from Tom.

But Aldric answered. ”What’s so wrong?” Aldric asked shrilly. “You’re letting him tell you what to be?”

”I’ve wanted to be a mother, just the same as my mother was to me, for fifteen years. There’s nothing wrong with being a mother, is there?” She demanded from Aldric. And how were Elizabeth and Aldric’s scornfulness turned onto one another? How had Tom managed it? The answer was clear. She tore her gaze from Aldric and back to the villain himself.

But he was speaking already, to Aldric. As he lounged back in his seat. Happily. “It seems you don’t know much about Aliena’s ambitions. They’re very noble indeed, aren’t they Geneva?” He asked, turing to the fourth party who was watching with wide eyes. Geneva nodded with fervency.

Tom turned back to Elizabeth. “There is nothing so noble as being a good mother and wife. It’s a strenuous task few men could begin to fathom.” He said it with softness and esteem. Elizabeth could almost believe him. How had Tom done it? How had he known which nerves to strike? What her true ambitions were?

From Abraxas, of course. Maybe even in conversation she had forgotten. Tom probably knew more about her than she could guess.

“And what would you know about mothers?” Elizabeth spat without thought.

Without comprehension, in a crusade of anger. It was a kiss of death in some ways, the way she revealed information. The way Tom managed to pry it from her into his greedy hands. And with each piece he garnered, he revolted in horror at. And he got what was coming to him, too.

Geneva sucked in a sharp breath. Elizabeth looked over at Aldric’s still-angry face, at Tom’s blank expression, and Geneva’s horror.

She wasn’t supposed to know about Tom’s being an orphan. She wasn’t supposed to know anything about him at all.

”We’re leaving.” Elizabeth said quickly, grabbing up Aldric’s hand and standing. Her chair skirted across the floor loudly and banged into the wall behind her. Faces of dates around them looked over, at the sudden commotion. She squeezed through the little space behind Geneva’s chair as she quickly moved herself forward. Elizabeth was out of the shop in the cold air again.

The sharp pain in her lungs from the inhale of the chill outside air gave her nothing but sweet relief.

Elizabeth took a few deep breaths. When she realized she was still holding Aldric’s hand, she withtook it quickly and punched him in the arm and walked forward briskly.

“What was that for?” Aldric demanded, catching up to her.

”For falling for his stupid trap! I told you-,”

”He was horrible!”

”He was horrible!” Elizabeth finished at the same time as Aldric. They looked at each other, and in the eye of the hurricane, they laughed.

Aldric grabbed her arm and wrapped it around his as they walked through the mud and slush, flush against each other. ”I was foolish. I’m so sorry, Aliena.” Aldric said, sounding very remorseful.

“It’s not your fault. Trust me, it isn’t.” She said firmly.

”I didn’t know you wanted to be-.. To be a housewife.” He finished, sounding disappointed despite himself. She huffed into the air, her breath fogging.

“I know it sounds like I’m just falling into the line of what’s expected of me. But it’s not like that. I want to-… Well I want to be a good mother. I want to be a good wife. I want to make a warm house, and decorate it, and throw parties, and wrap christmas presents. I want to bake cakes and dance in the kitchen and fall in love… I know it’s not the same ambitions for a career as others-,” She was saying, when Aldric turned her by the shoulders and looked her in he eyes as he held her there.

“It’s brilliant. It’s incredible. Its nasty work, and I’m glad. If that’s what you truly want, then I’m glad.”

Elizabeth smiled up at him, nodding. “It’s what I truly want.”

Aldric pulled her into a hug.

Elizabeth hugged him back, her face nuzzling into the warmth of his chest.

Tom couldn’t sit there in Madam Puddifoot’s for a moment longer. Not with the other people looking in confusion. Not with Geneva making poor attempts at damage control in Aliena and Aldric's wake. After they left the parlour. Hand in hand.

Tom was angry in a way he hadn’t felt since the bonfire. He had been so close to getting them at each other’s throats. Why was Aliena so astute at preventing his plans? That was not a question he sought to gain until after she belonged to him. How she managed it, too, was nothing he cared for at all in the first place. Any answers or questions in regard to Aliena Greengrass could be set fire and stamped on and thrown to the wolves.

The true question was how to get her on his side. How to make this foolish fuck Aldric break her heart. He could send one of his many girls his way. He could attempt to have them seduce Aldric Shafiq away from Aliena.

She'd be easier to manage if she were heartbroken.

But no. Any boy in their right mind couldn’t possibly be seduced away from Aliena Greengrass. She was too perfect. To 'brilliant' as Aldric had said. And he wasn’t as stupid as Tom had hoped.

He’d have to take more direct measures.

Tom had left Geneva in the tea shop, and now stood in the cold air of the street with his robes bundled around him as he stalked over the muddy cobblestone.

He stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of the scene distantly ahead of him. Students milled about, passing each other. Older witches and wizards hollard in the streets, a group of goblins muttering by in a huddle. And there, at the crest of the street, Aldric Shafiq pulled Aliena into a hug. His navy robes enveloped her almost entirely, only her long silver hair peeking from the folds of his form.

Tom sucked in a breath. His heart caught. He pressed a hand to his chest, as if he could rub the dropping feeling in his chest away. They were muttering things to each other now, her pale face looking up to him as he looked down at her. Their breaths fogged the air, mingling together. Her little gloved hand clutched at the back of his robes, holding the fabric tightly.

Tom moved into the shadows of an alleyway, peeking his head around to continue watching. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He couldn’t see anything else, but the pair of them holding each other tactlessly in the middle of the street. What a display. Of friendship. Intimacy. She was laughing. Improper. Inconceivable. What could she possibly be laughing at that was sooo funny?

There were other horcruxes to made. More splits in his soul that were required.

Aldric Shafiq’s death would be the perfect catalyst. He would mark the beginning of Aliena’s subservience to him.

And as much as he wanted to see the sweet loss of life in her eyes, as much as he wanted to see the dullness of those great big silvers... He couldn't kill her. He wouldn't. He'd restrain himself. Because a sweeter sight would be found. In her worship and reverence and kneeling. Sweeter would be the lowering of her gaze and the words of 'My lord' on her lips. 

Before, he had planned to seduce Aldric away from her. Until they hated each other. Until Aliena didn’t think twice about him. And then, years later, when Aldric's name meant nothing if brought up in conversation, Tom would be the angel of death that would bring about his end. The last thing Aldric would see would be Tom’s face, shrouded in the dark robes of death incarnate. 

Now, Tom reevaluated his plans.

Aldric would have to die sooner.

He would have to die during his time at Hogwarts. And as Aliena mourned his soul, Tom would be there to hold her. He would be there to hug her. Her hand would clutch the back of his robes as she cried into Tom's chest. Their breaths would mingle in the cold winter air.

And as the end of this winter's snow packs thickly on the ground, Aldric Shafiq would be cold. Cold and six feet deep in the dirt, eaten by worms and decaying in those hideous navy robes. In an unmarked grave, possibly. 

Tom had to reevaluate his plans. He had to make it so he could get away with this. And he would, simply because he could. 

Chapter Text

There was a quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. One of which Elizabeth had to begrudgingly attended, despite her despise for the cold.

The snow had long since settled on the ground. Her relationship with Aldric had gone on longer than expected.  
But how to end it? 
Elizabeth didn't want to ask, because that would surely mean it would end. 
She didn't want it to end. 

She stood with Aldric and his friends. Her own friends had mingled well amongst them. The girls in particular loved the Ravenclaws. They loved Jessica Splink and the popularity she brought. Declan Sullivan had a raging crush on Jessica that was quite funny from the outside.

He was already shy enough, but never awkward amongst his own Gryffindor friends. However, whenever Jessica was present Declan turned into another person. He stuttered over his words. He dropped his drinks, and tripped over benches and steps. Conor, his brother, found this very hilarious. As did everyone else.

And the air that Declan's affection had brought about all of them left Jessica no question about what she suspected.

”Declan Sullivan has a crush on me, doesn’t he?” Jessica asked in the girl's bathroom during the match.

Elizabeth took any excuse to escape the cold, but in regular fashion, all girls had joined in to attend the lavatory together. Her own friends giggled in a very incriminating response. Elizabeth thought it wasn’t very fair for Jessica to find out in this way, but there was no avoiding it. Declan’s glaring infatuation was hard to ignore. Even the stupidest of fools would notice.

Jessica Splink was certainly no fool. She only had to glance at Elizabeth’s expression to garner the truth. Jessica had spent the most time around Elizabeth over any of the other girls, and began to gain a frustrating ability to read her expressions.

“I knew it,” Jessica concluded. The girls, instead of giggling, fell into very high praises of Declan. They spoke of his handsomeness, how kind and smart he was, how he’d been admiring Jessica from afar for quite some time but was too shy to say… By the end of the bathroom trip, everybody was in high spirits. Jessica was in the highest spirits of all. She’d endeared the girls compliments in the bathroom with sly remarks about how, “He really is kind of cute,” and other things along those lines.

Everybody took Jessica’s positivity about Declan’s infatuations to be a very good sign.

By the time they reached their place at the top of one of the Ravenclaw stands, Jessica seemed very determined to seek Declan out.

Declan choked on his drink when Jessica sidled up next to him and said, “What happened while I was gone?”

Everybody found it very exciting and endearing. Elizabeth found her way next to Aldric, and whispered, “Is she going to take him seriously?”

She knew better than to suppose Jessica’s infatuation with Justus Rosier had dropped with a flash of affection from another.

Aldric leaned his head to the side, “Her and Rosier haven’t spoken in a while. She’s been talking nasty about him for the past few weeks. I only hope Declan is man enough for her.”

”Were they talking about it after we left?” Elizabeth supposed.

”After quidditch, it’s the only thing anybody could talk about. Declan really does like her.” Aldric concluded.

Elizabeth huffed and nodded, rubbing her hands together within her thick winter robes.

Aldric wrapped his arms around her back, leaning forward and cupping her hands in his, breathing into them. Elizabeth could feel the girl’s giggling behind her at the sight.

“Nice.” Elizabeth whispered her praises back to Aldric, who shuttered against her body with a chuckle. They’d painted an easy picture of couple in love. 

So easy it was. 
Too easy, most of the time. 
Elizabeth's stomach turned over. She scorned herself internally not a moment later. It's just fake. It's just fake. 

Elizabeth had been surprised to find some hateful notes from Aldric’s admirers at the beginning of it all. She hadn’t supposed Aldric to be such a heartthrob before— not in the same way she’d been bullied about the Slytherin boys. But it was a welcome bullying nonetheless, because it meant everybody bought their act. Still, the notes hadn’t lasted longer than a few days before it settled. And now Elizabeth was used to the easy touches and escorts to her classes and unabashed flirting.

When Ravenclaw won, though, they had reached a point that Elizabeth had been preparing for. One her and Aldric had mulled over in private. Simple theories-- nothing truly important.

But the stands were in an uproar, cheering in a similar fashion the Gryffindors themselves cheered during matches. And the elation had dripped into her own blood as she clapped and cheered along too. Adrenaline. Joy. Something indescribable as she looked up to Aldric only to find he was already looking down at her. 

She had already spoken to Aldric about it. One day, they would have to kiss in front of everybody, if their pretending was to go on long enough. And now everybody was cheering for Ravenclaw’s win, and the students in the stands had somehow turned on them and were cheering, “KISS, KISS, KISS!”

Elizabeth suspected Saoirse and Gaia were the root of it, but she was too caught up in the moment to point any fingers. After all, she had been mentally preparing for it the past few weeks.

Aldric was holding his hands up in the air, trying to scorn or calm the crowd away from the idea of them kissing.

Yes, she had talked to him about it. They had laughed. He assured her he could avoid it. Eventually, Elizabeth had grown to wish he wouldn't protest so much. 
What if she just did? What was so wrong of kissing? 
If her first kiss was with Aldric it certainly wouldn't be so bad. 

Before Elizabeth could pee her pants in nerves, she reached up, grabbed Aldric by his lapels, and brought his face down onto her lips.

The only thought in her head was that Aldric’s lips were squishy and cold. Like two gummy worms. She kept her face still and eyes closed against him as he melted into it, one of his hands steadying to her cheek and holding her face as he inclined into her.

Oh. Oh.

He tilted his head, mouth still shut. But this was how a kiss was.

She could feel the cheers around her, but they were distant. There was only Aldric right here in front of her. Her eyes were closed. Her ears were ringing. And only the touch of his lips against her’s as the world around them melted away. The slight scruff of Aldric’s five o’clock shadow against her chin. His cold hand on her cheek and jaw. It all came to both a vivid distinction and a blur.

Elizabeth pulled away first, taking a gasping breath and opening her eyes. The sound around her came back to the crowd's uproar. And Aldric’s face was so utterly close.

“That was my first kiss,” She dared to whisper, so only he could hear.

In the Room of Requirement a while ago, she’d admitted to Aldric that she hadn’t kissed anybody, or even dated anybody before. He’d offered to practice in privacy, but she’d denied viehmently. In truth, she needed this courage of a cheering crowd to breech that sort of intimacy.

Aldric leaned forward and kissed her again— very softly and briefly. A peck, but it was still a seal of the truth that lay there. It was her first kiss, and she had stolen it from Aldric. But he stole another in return. 

Everybody cheered again, now about quidditch and the win that Ravenclaw had won.

As they walked down the many stairs in a great crowd, Elizabeth caught faint words from Jessica, speaking to Declan next to her. She was holding his arm like a lady. “Do you want to kiss me?” She asked.

Oh that was cruel, and Elizabeth couldn’t help her smile. Jessica certainly wasn’t one for beating around bushes. Declan missed his step and she held him up before he tumbled down the stairs, laughing all the while. Which was quite funny, because Jessica was quite a bit shorter than Declan.

Maybe Elizabeth was still high from her first kiss. It wasn’t real, in truth. But it still was. And it was with Aldric, who she trusted above all else. And he was so kind and gracious about it. And Jessica was flirting with Declan, whose dreams were all coming true before his very eyes. It was the teenage splendor that Elizabeth had always seen enjoyed among others. It was the joy of youth she always had stood on the outside looking in, and wishing it belonged to her.

But now, she was there. She was in it. She was it. And it felt just as incredible as seeing Hogwarts for the first time. It was just as incredible as getting her wand, or meeting Artemis. It was everything, and nothing could take this from her. A pang of sadness, a pang of regret and shame. Hidden just beneath the surface of splendor.

So she held Aldric’s hand as they trekked up to the Ravenclaw common room, and got rip-roaring drunk to forget those tugs at her chest. The tugs that reminded her she did not belong here. Not really and truly, and she would not remain. And the temporary nature of it made Elizabeth sing and dance to her heart's content until the sun’s morning light kissed the horizon, and finally fell into a deep sleep on Aldric’s ready shoulder as he hummed a lullabye.

"Goodnight," he whispered, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. 
Too delicate. So sweet. 
So beautiful. 
Aldric let out a shaky breath, scared to move a centimeter for fear Aliena would wake. 

Declan and Jessica were an item. It wasn’t up for debate.

As the group sat at Gryffindor table the next morning, groaning over the food and shying away from the wretched light that stung their eyes, Jessica plopped herself next to Declan and wrapped her arm around his waist with her head against his arm.

She didn’t seem to care about the table she sat, and groaned the same lamets of hangovers that the others did. Declan wasn’t nearly as shy as he normally was the day before, wrapping his arm that she leaned against around her shoulder, bringing her close.

What had happened last night to change their comfortability so?

The edges of it were blurred. 

”Those fucking Gryffindor twats think they’re everything, don’t they?” Justus asked the Slytherin’s at breakfast, digging his fork into his eggs without eating them. He was glaring across the hall, to where Jessica Splink was being cuddled in public by Declan Sullivan.

”She’s a slag, how much more do you need to know?” Rodrick Lestrange said, unamused.

”You made her that way, remember?” Marius added, sipping his overly-sweetened coffee.

Tom looked over to zero his eyes in on the scene. They were all gathered together, wavering in their seats and looking overall miserable. And yet… They were too jovial to be genuinely miserable.

”What happened?” Tom asked. He’d been keeping his eye on Aliena for some time after that first date with Aldric Shafiq, but during his extensive planning nothing significant had happened.

“Quidditch match yesterday,” Abraxas muttered. He was among the crowd that was on the quidditch team. Abraxas, along with a few others, was looking forlorn. Tom supposed that all of them had probably attended, given that it was a Slytherin match. Tom never did if he could help it. From the hideous attitudes, they’d probably lost the game. Tom never cared enough.

“We lost.” Mulfric muttered dismally. So there was the root of the negativity at the table that morning. No wonder everybody was in such low spirits.

And then Aldric Shafiq’s sauntering form entered the picture, reaching Aliena and leaning her head back. She looked up at him. And he leaned forward to press a brief kiss to her lips. In front of everybody. On the lips.

Tom stiffened, sitting up quickly to try and get a better look.

“What?” Someone asked, noticing Tom’s change in demeanor. Aldric sat by her side at the Gryffindor table, shoveling food onto his plate as he muttered words into her ear. They were too close.

”Abraxas, your cousin just kissed Shafiq.” Tom spat, as if this was Abraxas’ fault.

”What?” Abraxas demanded, turning around to try and gauge a look.

He sighed deeply at seeing the pair sidled up against one another.

Abraxas turned back, shaking his head in defeat. “Can’t help the damned.”

And Aliena was giggling now, shaking her head as Aldric stared, trying to catch her expression. Those eyes carried a soft look. A look of admiration, one of the beginnings of what could be love. She muttered something to him. He quickly leaned forward and kissed her briefly. Again. On the mouth. She laughed and pressed her hand to his face, playfully shoving him away.

Tom sat in silence for the rest of breakfast.

As soon as Aliena stood, he did too. His eyes were trained in on her form, following her every movement. She exited the Great Hall, Aldric at her side. Tom followed, exiting the Great Hall and breaking into a brisk walk to try and catch up. He almost ran straight through the celestial figure of Slytherin house in the corridor outside the Great Hall. Tom stopped in his tracks, taking in the Bloody Baron hovering in front of him.

Everybody feared the Bloody Baron. Even Tom himself didn’t quite feel comfortable in his presence. But he hardly ever looked at students.

Sure, he was the Slytherin House ghost. That didn’t mean he spoke to them.

But now he was staring at Tom. Not through him. Not around him. At him.

”Don’t.” The Bloody Barons low, rough voice sounded.

Tom had to clear his throat to compose himself. “Don’t what?”

”Follow down the path that woman lays. Don’t follow.”

Tom staggered.

“Aliena-?” He questioned, not quite understanding.

”Not Aliena. Aliena. Not Aliena. Aliena. Tick tock, tick tock. Do not follow that girl. You follow your death, boy. You follow my fate.”

The Bloody Baron drifted through Tom in that sharp, bone-chilling manner. The air felt heavy and slow for a split second, and when Tom turned he was gone. The feeling lingered. Disorienting and unsettling and altogether wrong.

Tom shook his head, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He marched down to his common room, set on getting away. On being alone. On deciphering whatever that meant.

The coldness of December seemed to seep into Elizabeth’s bones.

It paired well with the misery of how difficult schooling at Hogwarts was. Endless essays. Research through books only to find nothing fruitful. Asking professors questions to be lead on a wild goose chase. There were exams during winter, unlike what she’d thought. They were more of “practice exams”, but they wracked the entirety of Hogwarts with a new stress like no other. Elizabeth couldn’t keep track of herself anymore, it seemed.

How she missed the easiness of just being able to look things up on her phone. To no avail. Books were the only option. 

In truth, this distraction of her studies was really about something more. Something permanently tattooed on her heart. Of the things she knew she would have to do. Her family-- who she was leaving behind by not putting every inch of effort into getting back to. It is the sensation of having a good happy time, but then suddenly realizing that happy time will eventually die. And that realization is the kickstart to the inevitable fall from grace into a world of misery. It was a happy and sad at the same time.

A desperate attempt to maintain flight. But she was not flying, she was gliding, and she would eventually reach the ground. And would she be able to catch flight again, or was this it? Where did it end and where did it begin?

When Elizabeth wasn’t in the library, or at study hall, or in classes, she was fidgeting with the knowledge in her head. She didn’t join in on snowball fights, or drinking parties. She hadn’t met Aldric in the Room of Requirement nearly as much as she should have. Even her friends had taken from gossip or fun things to instead attend to their studies. Those exams loomed, threatening the idea that they didn’t know anything about their studies quite enough.

That threat plagued Elizabeth’s mind. Far more than they had when she had been preparing for her O.W.L.s, which seemed silly because these winter tests weren’t nearly as important. Even with Aldric's help in her studies, which was often, she wasn’t quite so confident. How could she be? She didn’t truly belong in this world. She wasn’t like everybody else, who had six years of education under their belt.

Elizabeth was muttering to herself at breakfast when she was sucked from her mind into the world around her. There was a quidditch game today. They were meant to traverse their way to the pitch, in the freezing cold, and watch the match of Slytherin against Gryffindor. The rivalries had been more hostile as of late. Elizabeth didn’t quite care much about quidditch or house hostility. All she cared for was memorising the difference between the Ancient Runes justice and defense.

And yet, her friends reminded her, to let go. To be a teenager.

”You and Natasha are morphing into each other with your anxieties,” Gaia moaned. Elizabeth allowed Gaia to tug on her arm, feeling a bit lighter just to be away from the castle for a bit. To let her friends distract her for a while. To watch Edward and Harvey fly. Hopefully they would win, and could have a raging party afterword where Elizabeth could truly forget herself in the booze, and maybe even try one of the cigarettes that Aldric sometimes liked to indulge in.

”I’ll try and be lighter in my worries,” Elizabeth said sarcastically, leaning into Gaia’s warmth. They had reached the edge of the Gryffindor stands.

“I’ll wait here… I don’t know where Aldric is,” Elizabeth trailed off. Even if the matches didn't include Ravenclaw, Aldric always attended them with her. 

”Don’t worry, he knows where we are! He’ll come meet us in due time.” Berniece assured, grabbing Elizabeth around the arm and pulling her forward. Elizabeth glanced back, trying to crane her neck over the crowd to attempt and see her “fake” boyfriend’s familiar face in the throng of students.

They had already been fake dating for over a month. It felt like yesterday they’d agreed to it. It felt like last night they’d had their first kiss. But no, it was already only a week till Christmas break. A few days till their exams. A few days before she would have to say goodbye to this beautiful place. To these beautiful faces. To her best friends. Her best friend.

Where was he?

He almost never left her alone. If she studied, he would sit across from her. He would curl up with her in alcoves, quizzing her and letting her quiz him in return. He joined her for meals some of the times. He followed her in her wanderings, and assured her of her good standing in her classes.

But he especially never left her alone with a good time impending. He was always there, by her side, whether she asked or not.

Her easy intimacy with him, faux or true, only made their friendship stronger. She shared something with Aldric that she didn’t with any other. To her friends, it was probably budding love. But to her, it was greater than that.

Even when she found herself drifting off in class, thinking of him... Even when her heart lifted at the sight of his face... Even as her stomach fluttered as they played pretend...

When did I start having a crush on him?  Elizabeth wondered.

It had to have happened sometime. Probably at the same time she’d developed this paralyzing guilt for her presence in this world. A desire to run away as soon as possible in order to stop whatever parts of her were becoming too attached.

But when did that sometime happen? When she’d given him her first kiss? When he held her hand before she slipped on the icy rocks of the highlands? When he leaned into her as she spoke, like her words were the fountain of youth? When did her heart begin to yearn for his face? When she she started to feel happier in his presence?

When did the world start to seem grey without him by her side?

Elizabeth marched up those endless wooden steps with her friends. These bubbly giddy feelings, they were nice. But they were nothing compared to the dread that came with them.

By now, the stairs no longer bothered her. She was used to them, just as everybody else was. She was used to the playful wizarding pranks. She was used to the ghosts and smell of the potions classroom and the shock of a house elf coming into view around a corner before poofing away into smoke. She didn’t want to leave for Christmas. She wanted to stay, here within the castle walls, forever. She wanted to freeze time and live amongst her friends forever.

She wanted to run away at full speed and jump down whatever rabbit hole she’d come from. Help me, someone. Help. Help. Get me out. Let me stay.

The match began, and a new brand of unease settled into Elizabeth.

She was used to dread. It had become her companion this last fruitless month.

But the cheering, the faces painted and signs lifted above heads… It was wrong without Aldric there to cheer along.

”Where’s Aldric?” Elizabeth shouted to Jessica over the crowd. She stood next to Declan as he hollard, hands cupped around his mouth.

Jessica shook her head. “I don’t know!” She shouted back. Elizabeth frowned and tried to turn back to the game with the same joy as the others.

But where was her favorite?

That dread again. She knew it well, but why would it nag at her now? When she was supposed to be having fun? 

”I’m going down for a drink,” Elizabeth said into Gaia’s ear. Gaia nodded and waved her had absentmindedly, because Gryffindor had just gotten another ten points and the crowd was roaring.

When Elizabeth reached the bottom, she found herself unconsciously looking for Aldric. He was nowhere. It was barren down there, with only the cheering from high above. It sounded distant and unpleasant in her ears.

Elizabeth couldn’t discard the unease that nagged deep in her stomach. It was the same paranoia about her exams. Anxiety, that’s all it was. Still, she made her way back to the castle. As soon as she stepped inside the stony threshold, the wall of warmth hit her.

Normally, it was a relief. But now, it felt stifling. Elizabeth huffed, climbing more stairs and set in her mind to make her way to Ravenclaw tower. She'd solve the puzzle and go inside. She'd find him. No, maybe he was in the Room of Requirement. She halted, wondering which way to take. 

And then there was Peeves, barreling into her internal crossroads of where she could find her Aldric. 

He was tipping a portrait to the side as he cackled and watched the contents within sliding and falling away with their howls of anger.

“Peeves!” She shouted in annoyance. He jumped, dropping the portrait back onto the wall and turning. As soon as he caught sight of her he began to stutter over his words. That same fear that he’d had since he first met her remained.

“M-Miss Greengrass! I was only- I was-,” he stuttered.

”Have you seen Aldric? Aldric Shafiq,” She blurted out. It was a foolish hope, but Peeves did see many things. Perhaps Peeves had seen him come this way, and she’d somehow missed him in between.

She was being foolish, she realized, and she readied herself to turn around and go back to the pitch. Surely Aldric would be there somewhere. 

“Shafiq! Yes I’ve seen Shafiq!” Peeves said, eager to please.

“Where?” Elizabeth asked.

”Shafiq and Riddle! Peeping Tommy, isn’t he?” he cackled.

Elizabeth’s blood ran cold. Colder than the snow outside.

”Where, Peeves?” Elizabeth followed, voice dangerously low.

Peeves squeaked and pointed his hand down the corridor. ”Peeping Tom in his girl’s bathroom!”

Elizabeth’s blood ran cold. His girl's bathroom. She broke into a run. Her lungs burned. Her heart was in her throat. She reached the second floor girls bathroom, barreling inside without thought.

It was empty. It was horribly empty. Elizabeth frantically searched, searched, searched.

There it was! A serpent engraved into a faucet.

In the same bathroom she’d blown the windows out of. In the same bathroom she’d told Tom to leave her alone.

Where was Moaning Myrtle?

But then, Elizabeth felt stupid. How hadn't she thought of it? Moaning Myrtle was probably haunting Olive Hornby, of course. She wasn’t here, she was haunting her old bully.

Elizabeth cursed. It was an oversight. An ignorant fucking oversight. And everybody was at the quidditch match.

She didn’t know parseltongue. She couldn’t enter. But… No, they had to be here. Peeping Tom, and Shafiq? There was only one conclusion to be brought from Peeves’ words. Tom was in the Chamber. And he brought her boyfriend with him. Her stomach twisted. It could only mean one thing.

Elizabeth shut her eyes. ‘Open open open open,’ she chanted in her mind. She tugged on the faucet, as if she could pry the entrance open.

‘Please, open’

Her eyes pricked with tears. With desperation. Her body began to sag in defeat. She punched the mirror, and it shattered. Her knuckles bled and she held them in dismay, a drop of blood pooling in the crevices of her fingers. 
'Open' she thought, as a lump in her throat threatened to send her sobbing. 

And then, her lips opened. Like a puppet without accord. A possession occured in that moment in the second floor girls bathroom. A possession of the mind and soul that opened Elizabeth’s lips to utter a language she did not know.

Elizabeth caught sight of her eyes in the broken mirror. The edges glowed. Gold. 

“Open,” she said. And her voice was serpentine, and unearthly. And utterly not her’s. The deep golden magic within her stirred and settled again as the sink shuttered. Elizabeth staggered back and watched as the faucet twisted and sunk down. A spiral staircase appeared, exposed into the pit of darkness that followed.

Elizabeth ran down the stairs, not taking any spare moments to marvel the magic she had just wielded or the magic that had followed. She slipped and slid over the steps, growing wetter and wetter with her decent. She even fell at one point, crashing down stairs and stairs and yet more stairs. She eventually caught herself after grunts of pain when her chin caught on a step. Elizabeth had bit her tongue and it left the iron taste of blood in her mouth. Still, she continued down, down, down. How long was this shit?

Finally, the staircase exited into a hall. Ancient and gloomy and slimy. There were puddles of water she patted through as she continued to run. Adrenaline pumped through her body, unaware of the pain from her fall or the stitch in her side from running.

Another door-- two large snakes with gleaming emerald eyes staring back at her.

Elizabeth could recognize it. “Open,” she said again, this time recalling the infliction of the foreign language from before on her voice.

The snakes shifted and slithered, before the great door swung open.

Elizabeth stood at the end of a long dimly lit chamber. Stone pillars towered over her, carved with serpents into a ceiling so high it was lost in the darkness. Elizabeth didn’t care too much to take in the scenery. Instead, she ran forward with only the fear of what she’d find. No time for gawking, no time for magic, no time for anything at all. 

There, at the end, a very high and ominous statue of Salazar Slytherin’s face loomed, the shadows casting a fearful picture.

And before the statue Elizabeth took in the horror that lay.

Tom Riddle stood astride, holding his wand up aloft and looking toward a limp mannequin that hovered in the air before him.

It could have been a doll. But it was not. Hovering lax in the air was Aldric Shafiq. His limbs were limp at his side and head lolled down, unconscious and unmoving. ”Expelliarmus!” Elizabeth shouted, just as Tom’s head turned toward her in shock. 

His wand was wrenched from his hand and flew through the air. It didn’t quite reach Elizabeth, but she was still running. Just as soon as she reached the clatter of Tom’s wand on the floor, Aldric’s prone body dropped with a sickening thump.

Laughter. Sickening, high, maniacal laughter. 

Tom was laughing. He was laughing, and his eyes were gleaming, and he was doubling over now as he held his stomach.

Elizabeth finally reached Aldric’s body, flipping it over onto his back. Was he breathing? Was he still alive? Her hands shook as her body sagged over him, straining to hear a heartbeat. He was breathing. His heartbeat thumped in her ear.

He was breathing.

Tom was still barking with strained laughter as she slowly lifted, looking to him. He wiped a tear from his eye, looking down at her despite his position. Despite two wands being held in each of her hands.

”Aren’t you supposed to be at a quidditch match?” Tom asked. And his voice was too light to be sane. So this was his true self. So this was the Tom Riddle everybody feared. Voldemort. 

Elizabeth swung her wand out in a flick, and brought him roughly to his knees. Tom gasped out a breath, which then fell into another round of laughter.

Elizabeth let out a scream as she clutched Aldric's body. A yell. Guttural and angry. And she stood.

”Do you come here often?” Tom asked between stifled laughter.

Elizabeth lunged forward, pressing her wand to his throat and grabbing the back of his hair as she roughly pulled his head forward.

”Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you now.” Elizabeth spat viciously.

Tom looked up at her, eyes alight. He looked more alive than she’d ever seen him before. His skin was glowing. Like a statue shedding an outer layer. And the stone crumbled to the ground to reveal a living breathing creature beneath. 

His hand grabbed her wrist. Not the one holding her wand to his throat, but the one holding his hair. She gripped him tighter as he hissed, and she pulled his face further upward. Their mouths breathed the same air, huffing deeply.

”You can’t.” Tom whispered deliciously. As if this was the joy of the world.

”Oh?” Elizabeth questioned back delicately, tilting her head forward. ”I can’t?” She echoed.

Tom tilted his head to the side, as if this was a very funny thing to him. ”Just try it. Do it. I dare you.”

Elizabeth brought her knee into his gut harshly. He squeaked out a pathetic noise, and broke into a fit of coughing. Elizabeth let him go, allowing him to sit on all-fours and catch his breath through his heaving over the floor.

Just as soon as he caught that breath, she sent a full kick into his stomach, sending him splayed over on the wet floor. He held his stomach in pain. She walked around him, appraising.

Elizabeth had seen Artemis do this with a mouse. Catch it in her mouth and then watch as it squirmed. Bloody and desperate, the mouse would attempt to escape. For a moment Artemis would watch. And then she would swat it down. And watch it struggle more, bloody and broken.

And so Elizabeth kicked again. And again. And again. He laughed through his ragged gasps and groans of pain. She grabbed his hair and slammed his head onto the stone floor.

Tom laughed still, spitting out blood from his mouth onto the floor. When he dragged his head up, drool and blood dripping from his lips, he was smiling. Blood covered his gleaming white teeth.

”Kill me! DO IT!” he hollard, voice hoarse. He looked like the madman that reflected within.

The worst of it all- worse than his laughter or yelling- was that he probably looked more beautiful than Elizabeth had ever seen him to be.

In a flash of movement, Elizabeth fell to the floor. Her head slammed against the stone. Her ears rang loudly as her head spun.

She hadn't seen it come and didn't know where or how it had happened.

A grunt slipped from her lips and she opened her eyes to find Tom over her now. He had bodily tackled her to the ground. The blood from his mouth and spit dripped onto her face. Onto her lips. His eyes were alight with a fire. A fire of life. A fire of bloodlust. He had somehow commandeered his wand now, wrenching it from her grasp after he’d pinned her there.

But he didn’t press it against her throat. No, he kept her wrists pinned above her head. She squirmed beneath him, but he sagged his entire weight against her as she howled at the pain he pressed onto her wrists. He was a boy, she’d forgotten. And she was just a girl. He was physically far stronger than her. And there was no hope in the face of his bodily strength. 

He lifted her wrists and slammed them back to the floor, along with her head. She screamed in pain. He then collided his own forehead against hers.

Elizabeth thought he was laughing again, but couldn't quite tell. Her mind whirled and ears rang as a sharp white light interrupted her vision.

”Come to save your little paramour, have you?!” He asked shrilly, laughing. He spat onto her face, and blood and spit flecked over her cheeks and nose and mouth. ”Look at him, mmm?” He demanded, looking over at the limp body. "LOOK!" Tom demanded, grabbing Elizabeth's face with his wand hand and turning her head to see Aldric’s body, a lump on the ground. A dark shapeless lump.

“Fat. FUCKING! Lot. That did you, huh?” Tom said, drifting between yelling and a soft murmur. 

And then he did a thing that Elizabeth didn’t expect. He let go of her, staggering back up to his feet and turning to walk away as he collected himself.

But Elizabeth’s head was still throbbing very painfully, and she moaned as she turned on her side, trying to find the strength to sit up.

”Another heir of Slytherin, are you?” Tom asked.

”No!” Elizabeth quickly countered, but it sounded strangled.

”Then how did you get in?!” He demanded, that shrill madness still laced in his voice.

”Magic!” Elizabeth spat back, groaning as she came onto her hands and knees. The room was spinning. Was she concussed? Fuck.

A clatter of something Elizabeth didn’t recognize from the back of her head hit the floor. A breeze of suspicious cold wafted over the back of her skull.

”Magic! There is no magic that could get you-,” Tom started, and Elizabeth had reached her knees finally. Neither of them seemed keen on using their wands quiet yet. It was an unspoken mutual thing, this choice to ceasefire for the moment as they collected themselves. How long would that moment last? Elizabeth sucked in a shaky breath. Why wouldn’t the room stop spinning?

“You know NOTHING of magic! You know NOTHING!” Elizabeth yelled, interrupting him. But it sounded quiet in her ears, and she couldn't quite tell if she'd even been yelling at all. And it took everything out of her, because she slumped back onto her butt and tried to suck in more desperate breaths. Her head felt hot and cold at the same time.

”Oh, I know nothing, but I almost killed your boyfriend?” Tom asked, and if Elizabeth wasn’t listening so closely she wouldn’t have garnered the shakiness of Tom’s own voice. He wasn’t doing that much better physically than she was, as he staggered to the side. There were two of Tom, though, in her vision. So Elizabeth couldn’t be sure if he had even staggered in the first place. Elizabeth sighed slowly, letting herself sink back and back and back until she laid flat on the ground and stared up in the direction of the ceiling. She must have laid in a puddle, because the back of her head was wet.

The ceiling was black and too high to see. Torchlight flickered around her. The sound of a dripping tap. Vivid sharpness and haziness battled.

“Duel me.” Tom said firmly. He sounded a bit high up. A bit fuzzy and distant.

”I’m tired.” Elizabeth commented.

A pause. Deft and silent, and she saw Tom looming somewhere in her vision. He was somewhere she was sure, but where? Ah, who cares? Maybe she was just seeing things. Maybe she truly was just mad. 

“Don’t sleep.” Tom said quickly, his voice softening in a 180 degree change of tone. And was that desperation in his voice? And then his face- the two of him- were looming above her in her vision. Elizabeth groaned in protest, eyes growing droopier and droopier by the second.

“If you sleep I will kill your stupid boyfriend!” Tom shouted, slapping her cheeks lightly. When had he come to kneel by her face? 

She hummed, lifting her head an inch upward and bringing her hand to the back of her skull.

”I think there was a rock behind- behind my… I think there was a rock behind my head when you hit it-…,” she trailed off, bringing her fingertips in front of her blurry vision. Her fingers were bloody. ”Fuck.” She whispered, and if she wasn’t mistaken Tom said the same. But she could have been mistaken.

”Great. Come to kill you, died of brain damage…” Elizabeth trailed off, turning her head to the side. Like liquid sloshing in a bottle, the world tilted. But she was comfortable, and she could very well just go to sleep...

Tom’s hands cradled her face, bringing her back forward to look at him. ”Stay awake!” he demanded. She blinked, opening her eyes wider manually. ”FUCK!” he screamed, and now her head was on something soft and warm.

“Stay awake or I’ll kill you!” Tom screamed to her. Something was shaking. Was it her? Was it Tom? Was she laying on Tom’s lap? Blackness faded in and out softly in her vision.

What was that? It was a hand, on her neck, holding her head up.

”Episkey. Episkey. Episkey.” The low voice murmured murmured murmured. Like a lullabye. ”Stay. Awake!” Tom yelled again, slapping her lightly on the cheek. His hand rested on her cheek now. It was shaking.

Elizabeth laughed weakly as she breathed out. ”Episkey wont work, it’s for- for small injuries.” Elizabeth taught. Her voice sounded small in her ears. To the point where she almost couldn't hear it at all.

Tom was shaking hard now, and his expression was dangerously desperate.

”Don’t you want me to die?” She asked curiously as Tom continued to murmer the spell. Still, she did somewhat feel better. Less sleepy. The room still spun. Her head still throbbed.

”No.” Tom said viciously.

“It’s Vulnera Sanentur,” she explained. Tom repeated the words. He repeated them again. ”It’s not working!” he cried desperately.

“Mmmm,” Elizabeth hummed, eyes drifting shut.

“Shut up! Open your eyes!” Tom ejected, shaking her face with his one hand.

“Mmmm give me my wand,” She said.

”You have your wand!” Tom exclaimed, holding her right hand up, which was clutching her wand limply in her hand. When had she gotten that? Had she always had it?

”Ah. Good. Vulnera Sanentur,” she said, pointing it to the back of her own head. Nothing happened.

”Nothing happened,” Tom said. His voice cracked.

”Are you crying?” Elizabeth asked. It was absurd. She was truly going crazy, or dying, or both.

”Do it again!” Tom exclaimed, holding her hand aloft as he pointed her wand closer to the back of her head. Elizabeth sucked in a long breath and let out a sigh. His hand cradled her own, which clutched her wand. ”I don’t know, I’ve never done it before,” she admitted. Tom let out a yell of frustration and continued with Episkey.

“Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever,” Elizabeth droned humorously. Tom didn’t find it humorous. He was breathing heavy. Harsh breaths. They grew shorter and shorter by the second.

He was panicking.

“I’m- I’m going to die.” Tom concluded.

”No, I’m dying.” Elizabeth said, finding it very funny.

“I can’t breath,” Tom said, gasping for breath. They were short and sharp. He was shaking even worse than before.

”You’re having a panic attack. You’ll live.” Elizabeth drawled, trying to sit up. Tom held her down by her forehead with his palm and he continued whispering the only healing incantation he seemed to know. It seemed to ground him, at least. Elizabeth promised him over and over that she wasn’t going to fall asleep, and her own reassurance to him was the only thing keeping her awake.

“If you wake up my boyfriend he’d heal me,” Elizabeth reasoned.

”He’s not your boyfriend,” Tom spat in between incantations.

“Says who?”

”Says me. Right now. I say. He’s not your boyfriend.”

”But I like him.”

”No, you don’t. You’re just flattered.” Tom said, but his breaths were growing less and less short and more controlled. 

”Flattered?”

”Because he likes you.”

”I like him,” Elizabeth reasoned. 

”You don’t know what you like.”

Elizabeth was starting to feel much better. No more pain. Was that a good or bad thing?

”Did you heal my head?” Elizabeth asked. Tom shook his head, but he wasn’t breathing as heavily or labored now, and his hands weren’t shaking any longer. Elizabeth breathed deeply, and made to sit up. Tom helped her with great care, fussing all the while. It was all, "No, stop, you're going too fast," and "Slower." When she sat on her butt finally, Tom still held the back of her neck like she needed his support to maintain herself.

”What did you… Do to him?” Elizabeth finally asked. It was very quiet. A stark contrast from the chaos they’d just endured. Tom coughed, and then shifted closer to her, looking back and forth between her eyes as a doctor would, searching for an indication of something being off. Her legs tangled in his as he cradled her head.

”I scrambled his mind.” Tom said.

”You what?!” Elizabeth demanded, but that rise in blood pressure made her weaker, and his hand holding up her neck was actually useful because she fell into his hold. He moved himself to cradle her against his torso, leaning her down a bit again.

”He’ll be a vegetable.” Tom concluded.

”A what?!” Elizabeth exclaimed, but Tom shushed her and whispered the healing charm over and over again. A long moment of silence again, and then Tom spoke carefully.

“Nothing that… Can’t be fixed. Eventually.”

”Eventually? How long?”

”With the best healers at St. Mungo’s? A few months.”

”Months?!”

”Months, yes! Hopefully months and months!” Tom yelled back, like a child.

”Why?!”

”I was going to kill him anyway! I just wanted to see into his head,” He spat.

”Oh, so you’re just a shit legilimens.” Elizabeth concluded.

“Aliena,” he said dangerously. As if she could feel any danger from him. She couldn’t possibly, after he’d just had a panic attack over the idea of almost killing her.

”I can fix him.” She concluded, quite determidly.

”And then what, hm?” Tom contered, holding her down tightly in his arms.

“And then-,”

”If you try to date him again, I’ll kill him.” Tom said viciously.

”And I’ll kill you.”

”You can’t guard him all day and night.”

”I’ll tell Dumbledore.”

”What’s he going do after we graduate, hm?” His voice sounded angrier at the mention of Dumbledore.

”You’d hold a grudge that long?!” Elizabeth demanded.

”If you continue to date him, yes.”

”Why? What do you want? What do you hope to gain from this? Do you just mean to torture me for the sake of it? Do you hate me for reasons I’m ignorant?”

“You hate me for reasons I am ignorant.”

”I hate you for a reason! And a good one too!” Elizabeth yelled, gesturing around her to the Chamber, and then over to Aldric’s pale, prone body.

“Yes but you couldn’t have known my true nature. From the day I first laid eyes on you I could tell you feared me. You hated me, for no reason at all. You seem to walk about with an air of indifference, but I could tell that you know more than you let on. You hide and slink around the halls, going pale and quivering at the sight of me. You object to my friendship, though it would be the most powerful tool anybody in this castle could possibly offer to you. I cannot decide if you are tenfold more ignorant than all the other imbeciles, or if you really are just a soft-hearted fool.” Tom growled out, coming to his feet to look down on her with a scathing scowl.

Elizabeth still sat on the stone chamber floor. Too weak to stand. Head still bleeding and mind still reeling. She felt cold and lightheaded. Cold in a numb way, skin prickling harshly like patches of needles in some places. She ignored these symptoms, and pressed forward to speak. At least the hysteria was fading.

“So anybody who rejects your poorly constructed offer of friendship is ignorant? Do you truly hold yourself in such high praise?” Elizabeth asked, voice dipping into mocking vicious sarcasm.

”Yes I daresay I do, and it is within reason to-,”

”Within reason-!”

“, suspect anybody who does not respond as every. other. student has to my outreach-,”

”Outreach! More like accostment-!” Elizabeth’s voice was getting stretched thin and shrill as they spoke over one another.

“, despite my pardoning of your overall mad behavior, poorly constructed manners, and inherit silliness of a girl,” he spat, as if being a girl was a crime. Elizabeth gasped in an offended breath, as he plowed on without pause. “, you had the audacious nerve to-,”

“Do you truly think I would seek to engage in a friendship so faux and dripping with condescension!?-”

Tom wavered but continued on slowly and deliberately, “Despite your being sorted into the most insufferable house and garnering the most insufferable friendships. Despite your poor taste and lack of propriety. Despite the blatant disrespect you show-,” he ranted, growing more and more angry by the second, to the point where he was spitting and pacing. Elizabeth reeled back with a scowl, but her head was so light she felt she was on the verge of fainting. It was her pride that held her aloft and Tom’s insults were fuel to the raging fire.

“-I outstretched a generous offer of my friendship and you denied me at every turn. You-,”

”You are not capable of friendship! You are not capable of judgement of character, when your compass of morality is so twisted and broken. I know what your friendship- or shall I say subservience to a master- entails. I refuse to be one of your slaves. And Dumbledore was wrong about you!” She spat, feeling suddenly faint again from the strength this argument conjured. She sat back on her hand, before she fell once more onto her back.

Tom approached her suddenly at first in alarm, and then held himself back. He leaned in toward her face with a vicious look. Anger blazed in his eyes. And if she weren’t mistaken, they reflected a slight tinge of red.

”Dumbledore? Dumbledore is a bumbling crackpot old man who has bared a prejudice against me since I was a child,” Tom growled in her face.

Elizabeth grabbed his collar, just to keep herself from falling back. Back into what, she did not know. ”Dumbledore is ten times the wizard you could ever dream of being.” Elizabeth responded levely.

Tom’s expression reeled back in disgust, but he did not move. ”Dumbledore lacks the strength, lacks the power, that I alone hold.”

”Oh does he? Tell me, Tom, if that were true then why do you avoid him like the plague? Why is he the only person who seems to see you for what you truly are?”

”He’s not the only person,” Tom said, his eyes dancing over her face.

”And why does that scare you so much, if Dumbledore is such a bumbling crackpot?” Despite her tone being stony, her voice was low and weak.

Tom leaned forward an inch, eyes trailing over her’s, her cheeks, her lips, and then back up to her eyes again. ”Tell me, Aliena. What was Dumbledore so very wrong about?”

“He thinks you can be saved.” Elizabeth said, the words just as absurd as Tom’s expression found them when he took them in, and his face broke into a crooked smile of amusement.

”And you know better.” Tom concluded, recognizing the hatred in her eyes.

”I know that some people can’t be saved. I know some people won’t be saved.” She threatened, even as her grip on his collar was the only thing holding her up. Even as the black spots in her eyes grew too frequent.

She sagged a bit, and he leaned over hear as he slid one arm under her knees and another under her back to lift her up. The feeling of being hoisted into the air was so disorienting, Elizabeth leaned to the side and lurched viscerally. When she lolled her head back after her stomach’s contents had been dumped onto the stone floor, Tom leaned her so her head rested against his chest. Her wand had clattered to the floor. He said something else, but it was ineligible. His mouth moved, but she slowly could no longer see it. Only the rumbling of the chest she laid against. Only the strong arms around her that kept her aloft in the light. The smell of cashmere cologne.

When she finally fainted, kicking and screaming against the walls in her mind, it happened too quickly to comprehend.

Tom watched her eyes close as her body went limp in his arms. She fought well, and proudly. But she succumbed. He clutched her tightly. He didn’t realize girls were so light in weight. He didn’t realize how small she was, despite her being very tall compared to other girls.

The crackling torchlight and dripping of water was now the only sound.

Aldric’s soft breathing. Tom turned, face falling into stony anger, defeat, and disgust alike.

He caught Aldric’s sleeping face. The limp body. What a fool. His girlfriend had succumbed to her enemy, and he was just laying there in a pool of sewer water.

When Tom had delved into his mind, he’d done it cruelly. Each haphazard scrape against his consciousness was purposeful. He’d done it with pleasure and revel. And with each memory he stole, it just made Tom more angry and hurtful.

He’d seen everything. The memories were stains in Tom’s mind now. Aldric’s feelings for Aliena were true. He loved her.

And they had been fake dating this entire time. Tom had been taken for a fool just as the rest of them were. For stupid reasons too-- to deceive Aliena's foolish friends away from their girlish jealousy. The idea angered him so much he took his wand now and waved it in his hand as his arm held Aliena aloft. Aldric screamed, and when Tom finally stopped Aldric lay still again, his body breathing heavily but remaining unconscious.

Fake dating? It was foolish. How could Tom not have seen it? But Aldric genuinely did harbor feelings for her. And if Tom could garner anything, it was that she probably didn’t object to them at all. Perhaps deep down she did genuinely like him in return.

Tom struck again, with another crucio. The memories flashed in Tom’s mind again all the while. Aldric and Aliena in that strange room on the seventh floor, which changed to their whim. Aldric and her first meeting, and the long conversations they had together. Confiding and theorizing. Talking of nothing. Comfortable silences and lingering gazes. Meeting eyes and easy smiles. Comfort and the promise of a real future. A future together.

Tom struck again. Still, Aldric remained unconscious, but he groaned and screamed as a conscious man would.

“That was my first kiss,” she had said. To Aldric. When Tom was in his head, it felt as if she’d spoken those words to him. But those feelings after, the elation and jitters and coveting, were Aldric’s alone. And Aldric had kissed her again. And many times after that. And they spoke of it alone with laughter at how they played the game so well, but Aldric’s eyes would linger and want for more.

He recalled a memory Aldric had thought only a few days ago. As Aliena played the piano and he watched her face screwed up beautifully. Her nose always scrunched when she was concentrating, either playing or studying or lost in thought. Aldric’s heart melted.

I’ll tell her soon, Aldric had thought. I’ll tell her I love her. I’ll ask her to be my real girlfriend. One day, I’ll marry her.
But for that moment, it was enough for Aldric just to watch her and to see her smile.

“How could you love her, areshole? You don’t even know her!” Tom yelled aloud, growing more hysterical. Though, Aldric couldn’t hear. Tom struck again. Aldric’s screams echoed. He groaned, blinking, and finally awoke. Tom saw him groggily awaken in confusion and pain and terror. Tom smiled, and knew that he was the last thing Aldric saw before Tom whispered, “Obliviate.”

Aldric’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed back onto the wet floor, on his side.

He looked quite green and ugly in this light.

Tom approached him, pressed his foot to his face and turned it to the side. He sneered down, a black wet footprint now displayed on Aldric’s cheek.

”I’ll kill you one day,” Tom promised. He vowed it, deep down into his very bones. Tom then turned to the girl who he still held in his arms. He had to go to the infirmary quickly. He had to make sure she was healed. And afterward, he would place Aldric’s barely-living body somewhere difficult to find. He would see how long it would take for somebody to find him. Hopefully the mannequin would be dead by then, along with his contorted memories.

Tom noticed a bit of dribble on Aliena’s chin, the remnants of throwing up.

Tom’s hand, still clutching his wand, came to the back of her head and lifted her slightly toward his face. He could feel the warmth of her blood on his fingers, sticky in her hair. He could feel the hum of the torchlight and onlooking serpents that twisted up each column of the chamber. And even the dull gaze from the statue of Salazar Slytherin himself, watching on like the eyes of God.

Tom pressed his tongue to her throat and dragged it up and up and up until he licked her mouth clean and pressed a gentle kiss to her cold lips. His stomach jerked in perverted pleasure. He swallowed the bit of drool and throw up he’d cleaned with his tongue. He ran his tongue over his teeth and smiled down at her at the sight of her slick throat and chin and mouth, still wet from his spit, as if searching for more remnants of the taste.

Her face was pale. Beautiful and unearthly and slowly dying.

She could be a queen, a doll, a nymph. She would be anything Tom wanted her to be. She would be at the whim of his desires. This night only proved it.

She knows me, Tom thought with great pleasure. She knows me, and she will know me forever.

And I will know her.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth awoke to the faint rustle of curtains. To the soft muted light of midday.

It smelt of a strange combination of pungent potion ingredients bordering on chemical. The sounds of shuffling feet distantly, bottles clinking in a cabinet as they were put away, and the slow crinkle of turning pages of a newspaper. 

Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes to the hazy light. High stony ceilings with wooden beams above her. Everything came flooding back in a splash of cold water over her consciousness. She shot up straight in bed, looking around her frantically as she clutched the bedsheets. 

Dumbledore looked up from the chair he sat in. It looked like the same one he’d conjured in St. Mungo’s. For a horrible moment, Elizabeth thought she was back in that hospital, and ever coming to Hogwarts in the first place had all been some vivid dream. 
But no, as she looked around, she saw that this was in fact the hospital wing in Hogwarts and not St. Mungo's. Beds with linen curtains separating them lined the long hall. The tall windows displayed the muted flurry of soft snowfall outside. Even a few lit christmas trees decorated around. 

Dumbledore’s eyes creased and that familiar smile lit up his face. 
”Lovely to see you awake, Aliena. Do not fret, you’re alright now. We’re in the hospital wing.” 
His voice would have been more calming if a cacophony of questions didn’t flood Elizabeth’s thoughts.
Elizabeth’s hand unconsciously came to the back of her head, only to find that her hair was soft and dry and there was no sign of a wound at all. 

”What- What… happened?” She asked. She needed to scope for information. “Where’s Aldric?” She added, more desperate for that information than anything else. 

”You took a nasty fall down the stairs outside the second story girl’s lavatory. There was quite a bit of flooding in the corridor that caused you to slip— one of the taps in the restroom broke. Peeves found you. He said you’d run off in quite the hurry.” 
”Peeves… found me?” She asked, realizing how scratchy and dry her throat was. Dumbledore waved his hand, and in a display of easy wandless and wordless magic the pitcher on the bedside table poured into an awaiting cup which floated into Elizabeth’s hands. She took a greedy gulp, and then another. She waited patiently for Dumbledore’s story. 

“You were in a dangerous state. You lost a bit of blood, and with a head injury like that it was precarious to heal. But you are perfectly alright now. You’ll be concussed for a few days, unfortunately.”
”Where is Aldric?” Elizabeth followed. She didn’t like how Dumbledore was avoiding her question. She didn’t like the pit of dread that had sunk in her stomach.

“He’s…-” Dumbledore started, face turning more grave, “in St. Mungo’s recovering.” Dumbledore shifted forward and retrieved something small and square from his pocket. He handed it toward her. She opened up the folded up slip of paper. Aldric’s slanted, rushed handwriting was easily distinguishable. ‘Meet me behind the pitch near the rocks’

Elizabeth’s mouth pursed as she read it over and over again. 
”It seems you’ve never seen this before?” Dumbledore asked. Elizabeth shook her head, looking up at him with a frown. 
”Your friends testfied you had been searching for Aldric the day of the match. It wasn’t until later that this note was found in the pocket of your robes. I assume… you never found it?” He asked. Elizabeth let out a breath, looking back down at it. 
”No. I didn’t even- I didn’t know-…,” She laughed shortly, bit it was too dry to be anything but forlorn. “I didn’t know he slipped it in there.” Elizabeth concluded. 
”We- the staff and I- figured as much. Unfortunately unforeseen circumstances befell the both of you.” 
Elizabeth’s head snapped back up. 
”We found Aldric there, at his meeting spot… He was also unconscious, and underneath bit of snowfall. After finding you, and with Aldric missing, the staff went on a search for him. Thankfully we found this note in your pocket.”

“He was-… He was there? At the rocks?” Elizabeth asked, unconsciously crumpling the note in her hand. 

“He was very difficult to find. He had fallen a bit. His mind was in a… difficult state. It seems he may have been attacked, but we don’t want to go making any assumptions.” Dumbledore said. 

“When did you find him?”
”A few hours after the match was over. He was barely alive.” Dumbledore said grimly. Elizabeth liked very much the way Dumbledore didn’t sugarcoat things. She liked the way he was truthful, despite the pain of it. He never treated her as weak or in need of pity. 

Elizabeth sagged back a bit. So Aldric was in St. Mungo’s. Dumbledore either did not know the nature of his ailment or was not revealing it to her. Aside from physical injury, Aldric was probably suffering much more mentally. Did they know the state he was in? Did they know his mind had been scrambled? What Tom had done? 

And then there was Tom. Tom knew about one of her secrets now. He knew her and Aldric were fake dating the entire time. He knew, and all their efforts was now in vain. Would he go around telling the whole school? 
No, that wasn’t Tom’s style. He’d surely hang onto the information and lord it over her head as much as he possibly could. 

And then, Elizabeth realized, she had never been more glad that she held her information so close to her chest. Aldric was her best friend. And other than Dumbledore, Aldric was her closest confidant. She had never told him of her origins, of her power.
And Tom had gained access to all Elizabeth had to offer to Aldric. If she had told him even a fraction of her secrets… If Tom knew just how close he’d gotten to a hidden truth…

Elizabeth thanked God she hadn't told Aldric anything valuable. Only Dumbledore knew a small part of what she was hiding. But even he didn't know of the knowledge she carried within her about the world around her. About the future. About the present. About where she came from and where she would certainly return to. 

Dumbledore was the only person who she knew Tom could never gain access to. He couldn’t be overpowered, tricked, or manipulated. But the less Dumbledore knew, the better. This incident only proved it. What would Tom do if he suspected Dumbledore had a secret he coveted to know…?
The thought didn’t sit well. 

Elizabeth had narrowly escaped. By sheer luck, Tom had wanted her alive. And by sheer luck, he hadn’t killed Aldric either. Elizabeth knew from the moment Dumbledore told her the story that Tom had placed Aldric there, hidden on the grounds in the freezing cold. Left to die. Or left to be found. 
What happened in the Chamber of Secrets loomed in her memory. Painfully sharp as a blade pressed to her heart. What now, though? 
Tom had painted a pretty picture. Two circumstantial accidents. Similar head injuries. An incriminating note. 

Elizabeth smoothed out the sheet of paper and looked down at the handwriting. It was Aldric’s, yes. But then hidden there at the bottom of the ‘h’ on the word ‘pitch’. A slight swoop up. So slight and impossible to distinguish unless one knew Aldric’s handwriting well. Unless one was searching for something. 

The thought struck Elizabeth suddenly. Tom had manufactured this script. He’d planted it in her pocket. Did he intend to frame her? Did he mean for Aldric’s body to be found? Had he truly intended for Aldric to die and for her to become the culprit? 

Her mind raced to no end. 

Dumbledore’s voice cut in, snapping her back to reality. “Is there something wrong?” He asked, glancing down at the note and then back up to her. She gazed at him, screwed up her face in frustration, and then looked back down to her lap. 
”Only how lucky it was… That you found the note.” 

“Yes…,” Dumbledore trailed off. “Very lucky indeed. You must have a guardian spirit watching over you.” He was trying to sound light and cheerful, but Elizabeth barked out a dry laugh. 
”The only guardian spirit I have is you. How did you convince them I didn’t do it?” 

He looked at her like he might protest the idea, but he saw the look in her eyes, and diverted. “You are too wise for your own good. But it is simple logic. An attacker wouldn’t hide their victim in the rocks and then throw themselves down the stairs. Much less their best friend. Your injuries were too grave.” 
”A suicidal one might.” 
Dumbledore chuckled. “You study too hard to be suicidal.” As if this were a more indicative answer then ‘you’re too happy to be suicidal’ or ‘you have too many friends, your life is too good’. Then, Elizabeth supposed, there were plenty people who were satisfied on the surface but suffered from an ailment just beneath that mask of content. 

“And besides. Your professors, me included, have seen enough of your character to give you the benefit of the doubt. You are a victim, just as Aldric is.” 

”A victim? So you think this was a crime? That it was an attack?” Elizabeth was just starting to sound hopeful. If anybody could figure it out, it would be Dumbledore.

She could tell him, of course, but what of Aldric? What would Tom do out of retaliation? The words echoed in her mind: ‘You can’t guard him all day and night,’ Tom had said. And if not Aldric, would Tom go for her other friends? Unknowingly, stupidly, Elizabeth had created more exposed jugulars than she could count. All her veins displayed for the world, waiting to be slashed at Tom’s whim. 
Her friends were weaknesses, she could see now. It was hard to view love as a strength when playing Tom’s game. 

”No… Professionally, I don’t believe it was an attack. Personally, though…,” He paused for effect, “I don’t believe in coincidences. Your similar circumstances, they align too well. Headmaster Dippet may be content to write this off as an unfortunate accident but... I cannot help but wonder.”

Elizabeth nodded, with a slow sigh. 
She could tell Dumbledore right now. About the Chamber, about Tom, and about what he’d done to Aldric. She could tell him and she was sure Dumbledore would believe her. He would protect her. 
But what would happen if Dumbledore couldn’t do anything about it? Sure, he could take her word for it, and then what? With no physical evidence? A testimony from a mad orphan girl with a head injury and incriminating evidence against her favor? 

And Tom would find out she told, Elizabeth was sure. He found out everything. He read her like a book. It was only a matter of time. And if he did, he would hurt her. He would hurt Aldric or her friends. He would hurt the Malfoys. 

No, she had to stay silent.

“I must ask you something, Aliena. Is there something… you wish to tell me?” 
Elizabeth met Dumbledore’s eyes again. His expression was unreadable. Even those ever-telling eyes held no glimmer of joy or dismay. 

”No…,” Elizabeth said slowly. “Only that- If I may ask that.. We increase our lessons in occlumency. I’ve managed to establish some of the… mind palace you talked about but… There are things about memory. Things about defense that I wish—…. I wish I knew more.” 

Dumbledore’s eyes lit up a bit, nodding as he stood. 
”Of course, Aliena. But you must wait until after break, I’m afraid. Oh, and, do not worry about your winter examinations. Headmaster Dippet made the decision to exempt you from them given your unfortunate accident.” 

”Exempt-! But-,” she had to admit that despite the shock she still felt, a flood of relief came from this news. And slight despair at how much time she'd wasted away studying and fretting for no reason. All she had to do was get attacked by Tom Riddle and then she wouldn’t have had to study at all. 

Figures. 

She was lucky she wasn’t Myrtle Warren. She was lucky she wasn’t the newest ghostly apparition haunting Hogwarts. 
Dumbledore chuckled, and before he left he put the mountain of gifts and chocolates at the base of her bed to her other side so she could reach them. It was overflowing with gifts and hand written notes. One of them was a beautiful card with a pop out heart that read: ‘Get well soon! We MISS you’ It was covered in ribbons and perfume. Clearly the girls were avoiding their own studies. 

“Here, I’ve finished reading. Nothing exciting lately. We’ve managed to keep things here… quiet.” Dumbledore added, handing Elizabeth the Daily Prophet he had been reading. A bit of relief at that too— no inaccurate and pitiful articles painting her as a poor sap or exposing her for follies that aren’t true. ”Do finish the crossword for me— I’ve got some exams to grade.” he said. 

”Grade?! How long have I been asleep?” She demanded, overwhelmed by that idea. Exams were already over?

”A week. A very, very long week…” he trailed off, looking her over with assessing eyes, but they glimmered to life as they met her’s.

"Exam's are already over?!"

He patted her head, and said, “I’m glad you’re back, Aliena.” 
And he turned away, walking slowly through the wing. 

Elizabeth took up the paper and read the date. December 17th. She had slept through her exams entirely. 

“The train leaves tomorrow!” She called in a panic, but Dumbledore was already gone. 

-

To Elizabeth’s dismay, the Hogwarts healer Madam Lendora did not allow her to return to her dorms that night. Though Elizabeth protested vehemently, she was denied at every turn. She’d even tried to make a break for it, but Madam Lendora caught her before she’d even managed to leave the wing. 

“But I need to pack my things! I feel perfectly fine!” 

”You need to rest and recover. Your things will be taken care of-,” 

”What about my friends?!” 

”They have been permitted visiting hours-,” 
And right on time, the doors slammed open.

“Aliena!” A harmony of voices called in sync. 
The hoard of students ran through. 

“I said three at a time!” Madam Lendora hollard, but Gaia, Saoirse, Berniece, Natasha, Conor, Declan, Anthony, Jessica, Edward, Harvey, Michael, and even Clyde Boots were all barreling forward as they ignored her. Every single one of them. Too many people to even greet by name. 

Gaia and Saoirse reached her first, jumping straight onto the bed to tackle Elizabeth back in a hug. Elizabeth let out a squeak, and then a laugh. Everybody was talking at once, and the chaos they brought couldn’t have been warmer or brighter. Gaia and Saoirse and Natasha were crying. 
”OUT OUT OUT!” Madam Lendora was yelling. Michael and Edward were trying (unsuccessfully) to appease her, but she was red in the face and only growing in volume. 

The girls were speaking quickly, all at once. They said how happy they were that Elizabeth was alright, how they had missed her, how lucky she was to get out of exams, how big of a fright they’d gotten when they heard the news. They were all still squeaking out news— Gryffindor didn’t have a party even though they’d won the match in solidarity of what happened to Elizabeth, Aldric was still in St. Mungo’s and the school had been in a right state to find him, they’d received a horribly long speech from Dippet about safety on school grounds— when Madam Lendora finally pushed them all out of the wing.

“You’d better write us!” Saoirse called.  
”Don’t come back!” Madam Lendora hollered with a shaking fist at the retreating students. 

“Oh, Lendora,” Harvey lamented.

“I SAID THREE AT A TIME, and you TACKLED my patient! None of you will be aloud back to visit! You can see one another with the return of the semester!” 
Madam Lendora huffed as she slammed the doors shut, grumbling and scolding Elizabeth as if her friend’s overall wildness was Elizabeth’s doing. Elizabeth grumbled back, annoyed that she could only meet with her friends for a few short moments before they’d been dragged out kicking and screaming. 

Still, the warmth remained. The Christmas trees seemed more bright. The collection of letters and presents on the bedside table appeared more bountiful. And the squeeze of gratitude in her heart forced her to blink away tears. 

“What about the Hogwarts Express? Won’t I be riding it back tomorrow?” Elizabeth questioned, recalling Lendora’s words about the return of the semester being the next time she’d see her friends. 

”Your Aunt and Uncle will be retrieving you themselves tomorrow afternoon.” Madam Lendora didn’t sound too pleased about this herself. 

Elizabeth chuckled. She could only imagine how scathing Aunt Belphia would be. “You’re in for a treat.” she grumbled. 
Madam Lendora balked and griped out, “It was not I who tumbled down the stairs!”

But then the door opened again and she turned to let out another scornful holler. 

But it was Abraxas standing there, alone. Madam Lendora huffed, but didn’t tell him to go away. 
Abraxas approached Elizabeth laying in her bed, observed the pile of treats and letters by her side, and took in her appearance. Madam Lendora was content to retreat to organize the potions cabinet. 
”How’d you manage to set her in a right state?” Abraxas questioned, gesturing with his head to the angry healer. 

Elizabeth smiled at him with raised eyebrows in an aloof expression of admitted guilt.
”Too many visitors at once,” Elizabeth commented. 

Abraxas rolled his eyes and took the seat Dumbledore had abandoned. 
”What happened to you?” Abraxas asked. He had dark circles under his eyes and a strained look about him. Was that due to her, or did Tom have something to do with this?

”Surely the whole school knows of my clumsiness.” Elizabeth responded. 

”And you lend that to be true?” 

Elizabeth looked him over. Did Tom tell him the truth? 
She just shrugged. Better to let the other party reveal information first. He sighed, leaning his head back, but it sounded a little relieved. “All those dancing lessons only for you to fall down the stairs…,” he laughed breathlessly. So he didn’t know it was Tom. 

“Ms. Mollin will surly lecture me this entire break,” Elizabeth joked. Abraxas shook his head, covering his smile with his hand. 

”Mother wouldn’t allow it. She already said your lessons will be put on hold until summer.” 

”Really?” Elizabeth asked, delighted. Winter break with no Ms. Mollin? It was a dream. 

”Don’t sound too happy. They’re furious-- mother and father. You should have seen them. When they’d heard what happened they came immediately to tell off Headmaster Dippet. I’ve never seen that old man so distraught.” 

”What of Aldric’s family?” She questioned, feeling a bit silly at all the fuss since Aldric was the only one who had suffered important injury. 

Abraxas shrugged, looking a little bit more grave. “I think his parents are more… Upset than anything. They took his things from his dorm. He’s in St. Mungo’s now.” 
Elizabeth nodded, her expression darkening. 

“He’ll be alright, they say,” Abraxas added quickly. 

”Who says?” Elizabeth asked, but couldn't help the twinge of hope this brought. 

Abraxas lingered, wringing his fingers, “Mother is in communication with his parents. She wanted to sue the school,” he scoffed, shaking his head, “Can you imagine that? But no, they were too distraught, and after mother came to her senses she discarded the idea as well.”

Elizabeth let the silence stretch, thinking of Aldric, laying in St. Mungos. He was surly on the fourth floor. The place which she despised above all else. Had he awoken, or was he stuck in a deep comatose? Were his parents at his bedside, worried? Did they shed tears on his behalf? Did they beg for a higher power to just make him wake up? 

Their little boy, once bright and lively. He who poured over books and music and philosophy. His future was unsure now. Teetering on the possibility of a life cut short or one of mental turmoil. 

Abraxas must have seen the grim look on her face, because he said, “I’m really glad you’re alright. I was-… It was scary, when I heard. You were lucky.” 

”Aldric wasn’t.” Elizabeth grimly responded. 

”But you were. Don’t forget that. You were lucky.” 

Elizabeth appraised him.

I wasn't lucky, she thought. Thinking of Tom. Of all the many missteps that lead to this result. Her inability to protect and predict had been her downfall. Aldric’s downfall. 

And then slowly, she nodded her head. The silence that lingered between them was weighed down by something deeper just beneath the surface. Words unspoken. 

And when Elizabeth was sure he was about to say something vulnerable or profound, he stood and said, “Well I’m glad you seem to be doing alright. I’ll see you tomorrow when mother and father come to pick us up.”

And then he turned on his heel and was gone from the hall before Elizabeth could call back a farewell. 

-

Elizabeth couldn’t sleep. 

Maybe it was because she had slept for a week straight, or maybe it was because this hall was so ominous and creepy as compared to her dorm room. It was too open, with too many hidden shadows in the dark. It was a similar sensation as walking through Hogwarts at night. Eerie, unsettling, and utterly wrong. 

She finally huffed and sat up, glaring at the moonlight that shone through the windows. She couldn’t sleep with the full moon sending bright beams of light. No curtains at all, and the dark figures and shadows of the room looked too fiersome to bear. Looking at the dark outlines of the trees, the high ceilings-- she was transported back to the Chamber. Helpless and stupid and wondering at which moment she would die. 

The door creaked open, and for a moment, she thought it was the healers office. But no, it came from the other direction.

Elizabeth immediately threw herself back down, pulling up the covers over herself and freezing in faux sleep. 
Light footsteps, one after the other, grew closer and closer. Elizabeth’s blood ran cold when the footsteps stopped at the foot of her bed, and then proceeded forward again.

Right in front of her. A looming dark presence bearing overhead. Elizabeth didn’t think she could move, even if she wanted to. She was frozen in fear. 
The wizarding world was much scarier than her own. Here, all the monsters she’d passed off as fiction were very real. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, goblins. What if this was some demonic apparition she'd never heard of? What if this was death, waiting for it's claim? 
Elizabeth's heart pounded in her ears. 

It was death, in a sense. 

“I know you’re awake.” The cool, quiet voice said. 

The fear melted into hot anger. 
Elizabeth sat up quickly, throwing the covers off herself, her face pinched in a scowl.

“What do you want?” She bit out viciously. 
She could throw him across the room. She could make him beg for mercy with her magic.

Tom let himself lounge down in the chair next to her bed, as if he had no fear whatsoever of the girl who sat in front of him. The moonlight cast shadows and blue light on the planes of his smooth skin. His ignorance would be delicious. To see his face crumble in realization at what she was, at who she could be. 

Despite their last interaction and what he did to Aldric, he looked the same as ever. Cold and indifferent, and slightly amused. He was even wearing his pajamas— a silk black set with a night robe. He looked as arrogant as ever despite his clothing. 
Elizabeth reached for her wand, on her bedside table (why hadn’t she thought to grab it when she was hiding under her covers?), but to her annoyance Tom was twirling it in his hands. 
She glared at him. 
”Scared I was the boogeyman?” he asked in amusement. 

“Scared you were Tom Riddle.” She bit back, but she was too angry to be scared now. 

”Lucky you,” he said back. 

She opened her mouth, preparing to scream, but he pointed her wand at her mouth and it zipped shut. She screamed against it, but no sound came out. 
”Ah ah ah,” he sang in a quiet voice, “I’m out of bounds. You’ll get me into trouble.” 
She wanted to throttle him. 

“There it is, that look of hatred. How lovely to see your true colors, Aliena.” 
She waved her hand, and in a great display of wandless magic the chair he sat on disappeared and he tumbled onto his bottom. She would have laughed, if she could. And then, as he looked up at her furiously and with a simple half-thought, she made his silencing spell dissolve. 

”Ha!” She said triumphantly. 
He swiftly stood to his feet, holding her wand in his two hands. Not in a pose to strike. In a pose to snap. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Ha!” He said back with a sneer. 

She gritted her jaw shut. He could snap her wand, who cared? She had magic that needed no wand. She had power he couldn't comprehend. 

But just like the safety of her friends that he lorded over her head, her wand was the same. It was sentimental. It responded well to her. It took her power in stride and never objected. Like another limb, her wand was a living and breathing thing. Just as much as Artemis was. If it were broken beyond repair, she would mourn. 
And it had chosen her. And she wasn't sure any wand in the world could ever compare. 

So she kept her mouth shut and a handle on her magic. 

At his whim, again. Always at Tom's whim. 

He waved her wand and a new chair appeared, more flamboyant and magnificent than the one before.

He sat. She glared. He smiled. 

“Is this the thanks I get for saving your life?” Tom asked. 

”You almost killed Aldric,” she said. 

”Ah, but I didn’t. After some contemplation, I thought you’d be too angry about it… So I left our dear old professors a hint,” his eyes gleamed, and flicked to the side table where the forgery still sat. 

“Still, it’s a shame they found him. I thought surely they wouldn’t figure it out until it was too late.” He purred, smiling that evil smile that suited his face too well. 

”I could have died,” she spat out, “If Peeves didn’t find me.” 

”No, you couldn’t have. I made sure he’d find you.” Tom said smugly. How he managed that without getting caught, Elizabeth didn’t want to contemplate. How he’d managed any of it was a mystery. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking.

“They’ll figure it out.” She tried. 

”No, they won’t.” And he sounded too sure of himself to be lying. 

”I’ll tell them. I’ll tell Dumbledore.” 

”If you were going to, you would have done it already. And it’s a good thing too. Bad things happen to those who falsely accuse others.” 

Elizabeth snarled angrily at him in disgust. 

“You’re too smart for your own good, Aliena.” He remarked, looking her over with a smile. He didn’t seem too put off about her unabashed hatred. And she was so sick of hearing that. 
”So you say,” She responded, remembering their argument that night in the Chamber. It took a great bit of restraint to keep a hold on herself, and to force her voice to be level. 

”Tell me, how did you get into my chamber?” Tom asked. It was clearly eating him alive. Good. Let it. 
She stayed silent, and he scoffed at her in annoyance but gave it up quickly, clearly aware she wouldn’t tell him. 
”You see, you’re too smart because you know that if you do anything out of line, I won’t come for you. I’ll come for the next boy you set your eyes on. I’ll come for your cousin, your family. Or one of your many, numerous idiot friends. You're too smart because you know what kind of a wizard I am. You see through my disguise. You see me for what I truly am.” And as he said these words, he was purring with delight.

He didn’t find it vexing or fear-inducing. No, he was happy. 

“You truly are an ugly git,” she spat. 
He laughed softly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on the wand he still held between his fingertips. 
”Tell me, who was the boy you loved back home?”

Elizabeth’s blood ran cold, and her face fell. He remembered that? 
”It was the excuse you used, was it not?” he chuckled. She herself had forgotten that. It was months ago when she used the excuse that she loved somebody else against the idea that she found Tom handsome. 

“You didn’t have someone, did you?” he concluded, leaning back in victory at her expression. 

”I did love someone,” she said. She did, but he was- she never- it was different! It was just a crush, and he'd never liked her back. And he was gone now. She was gone now. 
”And it never mattered enough, did it? You ran off and snogged Aldric Shafiq without a second thought.” 

“I-,” 

”You are a liar, Aliena. You’re a liar!” he said happily, leaning back with his hands up. 

”Aldric and I were pretend dating-,” she started, and he cut her off. 

”You like him.” 

”You don’t know anything about-,” 

”Love? You’re right, I don’t. But I know enough about people. I know that look,” he leaned forward again, preening over her expression, tilting his chin as he whispered the words, “You fancied him. You actually liked him, but it was just pretend.” 

She shrunk back at his words, lips pinched together tightly. 
”Did you actually think he would like you back?” he scoffed, reveling in the horror of the pain this evoked from her. Aldric was laying in a hospital bed somewhere, and she was disappointed he didn’t like her back? It was cruel. It was wrong. 
”I saw into his mind, Aliena. I saw his thoughts. His feelings toward you,” he drawled out, and she met his eyes with a sort of scared look.

“Stop-,” but Tom didn’t want to let her speak.

“A little sister. A clever friend.” He said that word slowly, ‘friend’. And it had the shot to the gut Tom had intended. He smiled in delight. 

”What are you playing at Tom? Trying to humiliate me?” Elizabeth finally asked, upset that it was working. 

“No.” He said firmly. “No, not humiliate. I’m trying to tell you the truth. I’m trying to unravel the web of lies you’ve surrounded yourself in.” 

“Having a crush isn’t a lie,” Elizabeth said. 

”Convincing yourself that it wasn’t wrong to kiss him? Tell me, do you think Aldric would be happy to find out you deceived him?”

“I didn’t deceive him! It was his idea.” 

“Yes, it was his idea. But he didn’t know the truth. Do you really think he would have kept up your little facade if he knew the truth? Kiss him in public, but secretly crave for more? It was a lie, Aliena. It was a filthy lie, and you used him to quench your feelings for him. And he knew none the wiser. Rather perverted, actually.” 

Elizabeth recoiled at this. And the reality hit her. She had lied, and she had wronged Aldric. It wasn’t right to play pretend. To let him kiss her, when she knew he didn’t like her back. If he knew of her feelings, would he be disgusted with her? Would he hate her for it? 
”And what would your friends say, lest they find out? Do you think they would laugh and say ‘What a clever trick! You had us all fooled!’” Tom made an impression of a girlish timbre. 
”They would have hated you, Aliena! Can’t you see? Nobody likes a liar. Nobody wants to be taken for a fool.” 

Elizabeth clenched her jaw and stared at the sheets. 

“Leave.” Because she was going to cry. 
It was all too much, this realization. That Aldric had done her a favor out of the kindness of his heart, and she'd taken advantage of him. 

Tom clicked his tongue at her softly, like one would to call a cat over, and his tone was soft and empathetic. “Don’t do that, Aliena. Don’t be upset. I’m here to help you.” 

”Help me? Help me?!” Her voice was bordering on shrill now. 

“Whether you want to believe it or not, I am on your side.” Tom assured. 

”You are not on my side.” Elizabeth said, voice less level than it had been before but still firmly opposed. 

”And tell me, who is? Dumbledore?” Tom asked, and Dumbledore’s name on his tongue sounded like venom. 

Elizabeth looked into his eyes. She didn’t have to say it, her expression said it all. And he sneered. “You’ll discover it one day. You’ll discover his weakness.” 

”I know his weakness. I carry it too.”

 
”Oh?” he asked, eyes glimmering, “And did he tell you how Grindelwald- the very man whose order killed your entire family- is his childhood friend? His lover?” he drawled. It sounded similar to a man landing a killing blow. A smug, satisfied, growl. 
Elizabeth’s blank expression roved over his face and watched that glimmer of superiority crumble. The realization that the sword hadn’t penetrated through the heart, but a hidden shield.
”Yes. And they aren’t lovers anymore, by the way.” She drawled. 

“He told you?” He demanded, recoiling in disgust.

”No. I’m sure he keeps that information hidden deep within a fathomless oubliette within him.”

”How did you find out?” Tom bit out. Disappointment laced in his voice.

”How did you?” she countered with a raised brow. 

”Purebloods talk. Rumors do not die.” 

Elizabeth raised her brow at him pointedly. “Says the halfblood. Do you forget whose house I live in?”

“And yet, what, you don’t care?” Tom asked, and now it was his turn to sound shrill. 

”No. Do you?”

”Yes.” Tom said firmly. 

”Pity. Didn’t know you harbored any resentment toward Grindelwald.”

“He killed your family!” Tom said, but his tone suggested that he didn’t harbor any resentment whatsoever, and instead was stuck on the idea that Elizabeth didn't hate Dumbledore for his past. 

”Dumbledore didn’t. I don’t see how this correlates.” 

”He loves your family’s murderer.”

”Love thy enemy.” 

”Don’t bed them,” Tom spat. 

”Do his sexual preferences bother you? Is that why you hate Dumbledore?”

”No! No it has nothing to do with that!” 

”And yet it disgusts you,” Elizabeth countered. 

”He disgusts me. Everything about him disgusts me.” Tom responded. 

“His sound morals disgust you. His capacity for love disgusts you. His ability to see right through your deceit disgusts you. His power disgusts you. Tell me, Tom…,” She took in his reaction to her words, which pierced straight through the veil. “Where does your logic bend? For all of these reasons you hate, and yet you seek my friendship? I see through this farce you play. And I will never trust you.” 

Tom took in this information, and she could almost see the cogs whirring in his brain. Was he just now realizing his lapse in reason? Or was he disgusted that she had caught onto his secret game?

”You and him are truly two of a kind.” Tom said, angry and disappointed and distant all at once. He threw her wand back onto her bed and stalked out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him. 

Aliena’s words reeled in Tom's mind as he made his way back toward the dungeons. He had to slip into a shadowy alcove to avoid a patrolling professor. 

Where does your logic bend? 

It clanged in his head over and over. She had spotted something within him that even he hadn’t seen. 
Why did Tom want her so badly? When she was so similar to the person he hated most in the world? 
Was it because she was young, and therefore more easily malleable? Was it because she was a girl, and therefore more easily seduced? Was it because he subconsciously foresaw that she could become a formidable ally? A formidable enemy? 

Did he want her to belong to him because he saw a future in which Dumbledore was reborn? She wasn’t Tom's inferior. She was his equal. Equal in power and knowledge. Equal in wisdom and charm. She was everything he was, but opposite. Dark and light. Yin and yang. 

He had almost killed her that night, and the memory of it was just beneath the surface of everything. He remembered the fear that had struck him when he'd thought she would die. The fear that sucked air from his lungs and left him helpless. That panic that gripped his entire being. It haunted him in his sleep, in his daily life, during his exams. 

And he didn’t want her to die. For the first time in his life, he feared death not for himself, but for someone else. 

And if she couldn’t die- no, wouldn’t. Wouldn’t because he would not let her. 
If she wouldn’t die, then she would have to be his. He would have to find a way to make her his. 

Because there was no other way. If she lived apart from him, if she became the great wizard who opposed him, there wouldn’t be any way to let her live. 

But he couldn't stand for her to die.

There was only one way. There was only one way. 

She would be his. She would be his. She would be his.

He would make her his. He had to make her his. In the same way he had to live forever. In the same way he had to kill his father. In the same way he would become the greatest wizard of all time. 

He would make her live forever. And he would make her his. 

-

Elizabeth didn’t sleep well that night. And she awoke early when Madam Lendora shook her shoulder and said, “Take this. You have to get dressed and ready. You’re aunt and uncle will be here in half an hour.” 

Madam Lendora handed her a small vial of green liquid. Elizabeth didn’t even bother to ask what it was, and took it. Immediately, she felt more awake and light. No headache and the veil of grogginess lifted. 

Elizabeth found her trunk and things at the base of her bed. To her delight, Artemis hopped onto her lap and meowed happily. She smiled and pet her, scratching her chin, and then got dressed slowly behind the curtain. When all her goodies and things were packed into her trunk and she was all ready, Madam Lendora brought her a platter of breakfast.

Elizabeth tried to strain to see any sign of students leaving Hogwarts for the Hogwarts Express out the window, but they pointed toward the rolling grounds and forest in the opposite direction. She sighed and ate her breakfast slowly. 

Tom’s appearance last night left her reevaluating. What could she possibly do now? 
She thought maybe that the events that transpired in the Chamber of Secrets would have at least left the two of them with more overt airs of mutual hatred. 

But Tom didn't seem to hate her. He wanted her to be his friend still, in that unsettling and controlling way Tom harbored. He'd come into this hospital wing in the dead of night to attempt and sow his seeds. 

And she also knew that he had panicked when he had thought she would die. He had healed her desperately. Why would Tom Riddle care so much? Why would he ever let himself be lowered to that state? It made no sense at all with everything she understood about him, about his character. 

It brought about a change in Elizabeth. One that shifted her strategy. Blending in won’t work any more. Tom wouldn’t stop until she joined his ranks, or he would kill her. Or worse, he’d continue whatever tirade he began. Last week it was Aldric. Who knew which one of her friends would be next? 
She could always pretend. She’d done a good job of it so far. But how deeply would that reach? She couldn’t act like a psychopathic blood purest, or join in on the Slytherin’s cruelties. 

The best she could do was conceal her magic. Conceal her secrets. Dumbledore knew too much already, and he was only safe because of the power he wielded. Nobody else could know. Nobody. 

It was why she hadn’t used her magic against Tom last night. He knew she was apt at wandless magic, and despite him possessing her wand, she may have been able to overtake him. But the idea that he would snap her wand in the process was too much to bear. And worse than that, him finding out just how powerful she was would put her in a more precarious position. 

She would have to hold her cards close to her chest. Use them when the time was right. And the time would never be right— not until she figured out a way home and had an escape. Not until she came up with a way to protect her friends, and the Malfoys. 

The arrival of her aunt and uncle and Abraxas brought her out of her thoughts. The trio looked regal as they walked, dressed in black with their chins high and Mr. Malfoy’s decorative cain clicking at his side. 

”Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. I’m-,” Madam Lendora started, bowing at the sight of them. She was wringing her hands nervously in front of her. Aunt Belphia strode past her without a second look.

Whatever greeting Madam Lendora intended to give met with the cold voice of Aliena’s uncle. 
”Thank you for taking care of our niece. We are no longer in need of your services.” 

”But-,” Madam Lendora started, eager to explain or give advice or say something. With that shivering Malfoy look, she stopped speaking immediately, frozen in place. He looked over her in distaste. 

”O-of course, Mr. Malfoy. Good day.” She said, trailing off into a pathetic mutter and scurrying off into her office. 

Aunt Belphia had reached Elizabeth and was looking over her in scrutiny. Elizabeth stood straight, hands clasped lightly in front of her, with a small pleasant smile. She tried to look as bright and healthy as possible. 
”You look… well.” Aunt Belphia concluded. Elizabeth nodded, and Uncle Brutus reached his wife’s side and took in Elizabeth's appearance as well. 

”I’m feeling very well.” Elizabeth agreed. Elizabeth felt strange about the relief and joy she harbored at seeing them again. They were still as cold as ever, but something of familiarity with them slumbered within Elizabeth. 
They weren’t her real Aunt and Uncle. Not really. 

But they felt like it. Did that mean… that they were? Or did it mean Elizabeth was becoming more and more deluded?

In a movement that baffled everybody, Aunt Belphia lurched forward and took Elizabeth into her arms in a tight hug. They were similar heights, but Elizabeth felt very small in that moment. Like the child she was, being held in the arms of her guardian and mother-figure. 
Aunt Belphia leaned back just as quickly and held Elizabeth’s shoulders when she said, “We were indescribably upset by your accident.” 
She said those words, but she meant ‘I’m happy you’re okay. We were worried about you.’

Elizabeth glanced at her Uncle Brutus, but rather than looking away indifferently or shifting in discomfort, his eyes remained trained on her in a way that was somehow simultaneously hardened and soft. 
Aunt Belphia let go of Elizabeth and stepped back. Brutus waved his wand and the cart holding her school supplies began to roll. Elizabeth only turned to hold out her arms for Artemis to hop into, before falling into step with them as they walked out of the hospital wing. 
She looked over at Abraxas, who smiled at her and nodded, and then looked back forward. They marched through Hogwarts in a formation-- in-step and with matching postures and coloring. All of them equal in grandeur. 

Headmaster Dippet and Dumbledore were waiting by the Grand Entrance. Pulled around out front was an immaculate sleek black carriage, lead by four perfectly white Abraxan pegasi. Elizabeth recognized both the carriage and the creatures from the manor. Elizabeth had actually been a bit disturbed the first time she’d seen the Abraxans in the Malfoy’s expansive stables, with their large red eyes and unruly behavior. They seemed to be giving the groundskeeper a hard time, bucking their heads back and lopping up malt whiskey each from their own troughs. 

“Dippet,” Uncle Brutus said, rather coldly. 
Aunt Belphia didn’t even deign him with a look, deciding instead to fuss with one of their squib servants about the luggage. Elizabeth approached Dumbledore and nodded a greeting with a smile. 

”Glad to see you’re on your feet.” Dumbledore said. 

”No thanks to your diligent staff,” Uncle Brutus said cruelly to Dippet, looking him over with a steely glare.

 
”It was hardly their fault. I should have been watching where I was going.” Elizabeth attempted to defend. 

”The hallway shouldn’t have flooded in the first place,” her uncle responded. 

“A-an incident that was easily repaired.” Headmaster Dippet said. Elizabeth didn’t even think she could have imagined such a grand man being brought so low. He was positively nervous. 
Unlike Dumbledore, who was calm and collected, with an easy smile painting his lips. 

”Measures have been taken to prevent such incidents going forth, I assure you Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said. Her uncle turned his gaze on Dumbledore, but Brutus looked more settled and appraising rather than angry. 

”As long as you say, Dumbledore,” Brutus said, and Elizabeth wondered for the first time if Uncle Brutus carried some sort of respect for Dumbledore. Respect that didn’t extend to Dippet. 

“Well! We should be off,” Elizabeth cut in, ready to get Uncle Brutus and her Aunt as far away from Hogwarts as possible. 

“Good day, Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster,” She said, nodding to the both of them. Uncle Brutus didn’t even say so much as a word before stalking off. Abraxas said his farewells at her side, and then led her away. 

”Travel safely, Aliena. And don’t forget to write,” Dumbledore added happily. 

”Never!” Elizabeth called back with cheer. 

She entered the carriage and Artemis immediately hopped out of her arms to look out the window. 

When they took off into the air, the carriage lurched forward and rolled through the campus just as any old carriage would, but the Abraxan’s began to run and take flight. The entire carriage rumbled and began to lift into the air. Artemis let out a little scared murmur and crawled behind Elizabeth’s feet and hid herself within her robes. 

“How has the manor been while we were away?” Elizabeth asked into the indifferent silence. It seemed none of the family spoke much unless Elizabeth pushed for it. 

”Very well. The Winter Ball is going to be the biggest event of this year.” Aunt Belphia said proudly. 

”You’ve outdone yourself, yet again,” Uncle Brutus commented, setting his hand over her’s. He had one of those rare smiles that lit up his face like a Christmas tree, even though it was small and subtle. Maybe it was because of how rare they really were. He hardly ever smiled at all, but when he did it was in the private of the family. It had to do with Belphia most of the time. 
”A Winter ball?” Elizabeth questioned. 

“We host it every year. Yuletide is always mother’s specialty,” Abraxas explained. 

”I’ve laid claim. It’s quite the event,” Belphia said.

”Escargot and macaroons imported from France, veela dancers, churros from Spain, wishing of the stars, the whole works,” Abraxas explained, “She prepares for it six months out of the year.” 

”And each year is better than the last,” Brutus added, seeping with pride. Aunt Belphia smiled and waved them off, but Elizabeth could feel her own pride and enjoyment of the compliments, even when they weren't directed at her. 

“What’s wishing of the stars?” Elizabeth questioned. 

”A tradition we have every year. You’ll see.” Abraxas said. 

”I’ll see? Am I allowed to attend?” Without Elizabeth's debut, she was never allowed to attend any balls or teas or events. 

”It would be difficult for you not to, given it is a five day endeavor.” Belphia said. 

”Five days?!” Elizabeth said in surprise. 

”With a rigid schedule of activities.” Abraxas said, sounding exasperated by the idea, but even he couldn’t hide his excitement. 

”Where will the guests all stay?” Elizabeth asked. 

”At the manor, of course. It is exclusive enough to keep the first days small, but we have plenty of room for the guests.” 
They did have countless rooms in the manor. Wings and wings of rooms, some hidden behind tapestries or tucked away in secret corners. Each had their own names as well, with flamboyant decor and themes. 

“And I suppose your Slytherin friends will attend,” Elizabeth asked, with an arched brow. 

Abraxas smirked. “Of course. Only the most reputable families.” 

“Touching,” Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes. 

“It is too late for you to invite any of your friends, given the circumstances. But next year, if you desire, you can bring one friend. Of course I would have to meet them first,” Uncle Brutus said, and this shocked Elizabeth above all. She gaped at him. 

”B-but my friends are Gryffindors,” She said. 

Uncle Brutus shifted but did not scowl or shoot her with a cold look like Elizabeth expected. 
”I would have to approve of them.” 

”Are you-… not upset that I was sorted into Gryffindor?” She asked, sounding a bit guilty. 

Uncle Brutus met Aunt Belphia’s gaze. 
Elizabeth had exchanged many letters with her Aunt over the course of her first semester at Hogwarts, and only one with her Uncle. Neither of them had mentioned Gryffindor at all. 
She had expected at least a bit of scorn, from how Abraxas had reacted at the time, but no— there was nothing at all. Elizabeth had very much thought they would just ignore it altogether, as if it never happened. 

“We were angry… at first. But you cannot control such things. And you are still our ward, and a member of our house.” Aunt Belphia finally said. Brutus nodded with her. 
So they had probably already talked about it. 

Elizabeth glanced at Abraxas, who was staring out the window with crossed arms. Perhaps he’d exaggerated his father’s ideas of what was and what was not acceptable. 

”We expect you to uphold all the values of a pureblooded young lady.” Uncle Brutus added. And there it was: it doesn’t matter if she was a Gryffindor as long as she was a pureblood. 
”And if my friend wasn’t a pureblood?” She questioned. 
”I would have to approve.” Uncle Brutus reiterated, suggesting he wouldn’t approve of anything but one of ‘their own’. Probably one carefully selected whose ideals fell under his own. Elizabeth deflated slightly, but was still happy enough they weren’t angry with her. 

“So none of my friends,” Elizabeth murmured, dismayed.

“Aldric Shafiq may have made the cut,” Abraxas muttered, and the slight upturn at the side of his mouth sent a spike of anger through her. Elizabeth wasn’t quick to anger— she really wasn’t. But when it came to her friends? 

Aunt Belphia bristled, shifting in annoyance. 

”And that’s another thing, young lady-,” Uncle Brutus started, and the lecture began. The entire time, Elizabeth glared at Abraxas’ form. He still looked out the window, but the pleasure he gained from it was evident. 
It was all, 'you are not yet out of society', and 'Hogwarts is for studying not dating', and 'any potential suitors must be brought before the family to meet before anything can be discussed'. Brutus ended it by scorning her for her behavior, how she’d brought shame to the family by acting so flamboyantly, and to never do such a thing again or she’ll receive a howler and not a lecture.

Elizabeth agreed, agreed, agreed, and apologized in a manner that she would to her own father’s lectures. Uncle Brutus didn’t seem satisfied though, and fixed her with an angry gaze. 
”We left you to your own devices this semester to let you adjust,” he said, and Aunt Belphia cut in, 

“And look where that landed you!”

”At the bottom of a staircase without a soul around.” Brutus finished. 

”That’s hardly Aldric’s fault-!” Elizabeth exclaimed. 

”He was planning on meeting you behind the quidditch pitch! Alone!” Brutus reprimanded. 

“Unchaperoned!” Aunt Belphia chimed in. 

”His impropriety nearly got him killed too. He was lucky he didn’t fall too far or he would have caught his death.”

”He did almost die!” Elizabeth said, offended. 

“And maybe that will teach you a thing or two about the sort of company you keep.”

”He isn’t dangerous,” Elizabeth tried. 

”He’s a scoundrel! I will hear no sort of your consorting with him or any more of his kind of people, do I make myself clear?” Brutus said firmly. 

”I’m my own person! I can choose my own friends!”

”You had that chance and you chose poorly.” Aunt Belphia said strictly. 

”He’s in the hospital right now! Do you have no sense of sympathy?” Elizabeth demanded. 

”I have the utmost sympathy,” Aunt Belphia said scathingly. She was breeching dangerous territory, her voice beginning to shake. “I sympathize all too well. If you had- If it were you…,” She trailed off, covering her mouth and looking out the window. There were tears brimming in her eyes. Uncle Brutus put a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder. 

“You are not to consort with the kind who would get you into trouble, do you understand?” Uncle Brutus asked, voice calm but very firm. 
”Do you understand?” He followed, when Elizabeth said nothing. 

She looked to her aunt, who was struggling to keep herself from crying. Aunt Belphia, the strongest person she know, brought to the verge of tears just by the talks of Elizabeth’s fate being similar to Aldric’s. Elizabeth had no idea the events that transpired had such an effect on her aunt, who never cried, or her uncle, who never cared enough to lecture. 
It was preposterous. 
And deeply moving. 
”Yes, Uncle Brutus. I’m sorry,” She added, looking to Belphia with a nod and then lowering her head. 

After a long few minutes of silence, in which Aunt Belphia collected herself and began to question Abraxas about quidditch, Elizabeth spoke again. 

”We lost,” Abraxas muttered, talking about their last match against Gryffindor. 

”Well all is well that ends well, is that it?” Aunt Belphia demanded, sounding disappointed. 

”No, of course-,” Abraxas started, glancing over at Elizabeth and then back to his mother, looking a bit embarrassed. “Of course not. Our practices are set to resume in full force next semester.”

”And if you desire to be captain you should show up early and be the last to leave. Talent is all well and good, but devotion, leadership— these are the qualities that get you what you want.” Aunt Belphia instructed. 
Elizabeth looked over to Abraxas again, who looked ready to curl into a ball rather than listen to his mother’s reprimanding about quidditch.

Despite Abraxas not helping her at all earlier when she was getting lectured, she felt sympathy for him. So she said, “So what events will I be allowed to attend at the… Yule celebrations?” 
Aunt Belphia looked over her, and said, “The daytime activities, teatime, dinner, and then you go to bed.” 

”To bed? What about dancing?” 

”That is for adults.” 
Abraxas snickered, and Elizabeth glared at him. 

“Abraxas is going.” Elizabeth concluded. 

”You are not yet out in society,” Aunt Belphia said. Uncle Brutus couldn’t look more bored. 

”We’re the same age. And I went to Slughorn’s party!” Elizabeth said.
Aunt Belphia knew this already, but Uncle Brutus raised a brow and glanced at his wife. She smiled smugly. 

“When you attended Slughorn’s party, you provided something.” 

”Provided?” Brutus questioned. 

”She sang, and played the guitar,” Abraxas recalled. 

“Did you?” Brutus asked, sounding a bit pleased. “How was it?”

Aunt Belphia rolled her eyes. Elizabeth smiled, “It went very well.” 

Despite all their talk against becoming a musician, they did like to hear good things about anything Elizabeth was skilled at. 

”It was alright.” Abraxas said glumly, because that performance was perhaps very offensive to him if Elizabeth could recall. 

”If you want to attend the Christmas day ball, you will have to provide a performance in exchange.” 
Elizabeth gaped at her aunt with an open mouth. 

”A performance?!”
Belphia smiled rather deviously. So this was an ulterior motive. 
”In fact, I demand one. The ladies of the ton have all been asking about you. Rumors spread even from Hogwarts, it seems. I should hate to disappoint anybody.” 
”So I’m the event,” Elizabeth asked with a raised brow. Aunt Belphia smiled and nodded. She was too proud of herself to look anything but smug. 

“What happened to entertainers being scornful?” Elizabeth questioned. 

”The best wives are well accomplished. It’s common for young women to display their talents.” 

”So I can be pawned off the most suitable bachelor?” 

”Precisely.” Uncle Brutus said, and he didn’t even seem to find anything wrong with that. 

“Your options will only broaden, that is all. Brutus has already received some inquiries about your health and beauty-,” Aunt Belphia said. 

”From who?!” Abraxas and Elizabeth exclaimed at the same time with equal horror. 

“There are many young men of noble families who are in need of a wife. Of course, we have granted Aliena the option of a choice,” Belphia endeavored, “But after the Christmas Ball I’m sure plenty noble families will be fighting over our Aliena. You will have plenty of choices.” She said this with great excitement, but Elizabeth's stomach plummeted. 

“I’m a mare being showed before the auction.” Elizabeth said in distress. 

”There aren’t any noblemen looking to marry her,” Abraxas said, as if this was absurd. 

Brutus scoffed. 

”The boys don’t. That is a father’s job. Why, half your friend’s fathers have sent inquiries on her. Everybody is very curious.” 

”The stir about you Aliena is very marvelous. A fresh face in society at this age! And with such incredible breeding, intelligence, beauty, talent— I can already see the look on their faces! None of their daughters are half as pretty as my little Aliena.” Belphia exclaimed in delight. 

“Who has?” Abraxas demanded, still. 

”Black-,” Brutus started, but Abraxas interrupted. 

”Which one?!” 

“Pollux, of course-,” Brutus started, but was interrupted again. 

“Not for Alphard!” Abraxas exclaimed. At least his horror matched Elizabeth’s own. 

”Of course for Alphard. He’s probably trying to tie the boy down as soon as possible, that wild beast,” Brutus snickered. 

”B-but I haven’t even debuted!” Elizabeth said. 

”Think of it as a prerequisite of what’s to come. Just a bit of a sneak peek before the main event.” Belphia explained. 

”Who else?!” Abraxas demanded again, leaning forward and looking very stressed. The idea of her marrying one of his friends was clearly terrifying. Elizabeth couldn’t help but find it at least a little entertaining. Abraxas’ worst nightmare was probably Elizabeth going off and marrying one of his precious and ‘superior’ friends, and being stuck in her life.

”Nott, Mulciber,” Brutus said. Elizabeth made a gagging noise. Aunt Belphia scolded her, and Abraxas was lecturing his father on the impropriety of his friends and why they should certainly not be considered, any one of them. 

“They’re your friends, Abraxas, you should be advocating for someone you trust to take care of Aliena.” Brutus reasoned. 

”None of them are half good en- they’re all rotten, the lot of them. You said Aliena could pick.” Abraxas said. 

“They’re rotten? You’ve only ever had good things to say!” Belphia said, but Brutus sent her a knowing look and she chuckled in response. 

”She can pick, and she will. From a curated selection,” Brutus said, glancing over at Elizabeth, “Right?” 

Elizabeth numbly remembered the agreement she’d made with him over the summer. How she would marry, and how she would choose. But she had to choose someone Brutus approved of. Which probably only included the very Slytherin pricks she hated. 
”Of course.” Elizabeth agreed, remembering her place and her plans. She would never marry anyone of their choosing. She’d be gone before they could make her. 

But if they tried… They could drag her down the aisle, but she would never say the words “I do” unless she wanted to. 

Unless she meant it.

-

Chapter Text

The Malfoy family finally reached home after long conversations and with a jovial atmosphere. Or at least, however jovial the Malfoy family could be. They spoke about what had gone on throughout one another’s absences.

Even Elizabeth found some things surprising about Abraxas, who she didn’t 'catch up' with during her time at Hogwarts. In general, she tried to ignore him the best she could. They also talked of Brutus’ work and Belphia’s planning and gossip. And when Elizabeth talked about her friends, her classes, and the latest funk she had been in during her studies, both Abraxas and her guardians were eager to listen. Well, as eager as a Malfoy could be, which mostly consisted of interrogating questions or scrutinous gazes.

As they walked toward the house, each diverted onto their own.

Elizabeth made way straight to the house. Mrs. Malfoy diverted to the servants as she instructed them on how to handle the luggage and the current state of the house. And Brutus pulled Abraxas aside before he could stride toward the stables for an afternoon ride.

”I’d like to have a word with you after dinner tonight,” Brutus said. Abraxas could only imagine what this would entail. Hopefully at the very least he wouldn’t be reprimanded too harshly.

Aliena seemed to think her behavior would have no repercussions. Maybe not to her, but anything Aliena did was the same manner in which a subordinate would make a mistake. And Abraxas was her caretaker, in a sense. At least at Hogwarts he was. Anything Aliena did, Abraxas had to answer for. Sometimes more strictly than Aliena herself answered for. And while Aliena skipped into the house, with only one light lecture and not a care in the world or any idea of the trouble she’d gotten Abraxas into, he remained behind and nodded his head in compliance.

”Yes, father,” Abraxas said. He rode harder and faster than his body could probably have managed. By the time he returned he was sore all over and sweating more than he did during quidditch practices.

Aliena took responsibility for herself, sure. And she answered to her faults well, with passion and in stride. She was a fortitude of spirit. 
Abraxas didn't understand it half the time. 
But in the end it wasn't she who felt the weight of her actions. It was Abraxas. 

Elizabeth took in the manor with great curiosity. It didn’t look how it normally did. Or at least, not how it did during the past summer she spent there.

More than double the servants bustled around than there had been previously. Each were carrying boxes and buckets or floral arrangements or something of the sort. They all bowed to her as she walked, and spoke no words unless spoken to first. The house seemed to be in a half-state of disarray. Decorations were beginning to be arranged around the manor. Not just the traditional garlands or candles or bunches of holly and ornaments. No, there were entire structures being built, arrangements of magical floating displays, and the yard in the back had hosts of tents and trees and things being hoisted aloft. Her Aunt Belphia met Elizabeth where she stood at the back window, looking on to the grounds and the crowds of people setting up.

”It’s quite- don’t hold those snowdrops to the side, up!- chaotic is it not?” Belphia asked, sounding chipper. Despite her barking orders to the staff and everybody quaking at her presence, Elizabeth had never seen her aunt happier.

”Your letters didn’t do the work justice. I mean— I expected a ball, or an event, but an entire winter festival? You said you were up to a bit of party planning and decorating, but this?” Elizabeth scoffed in astonishment. It was a working hub. It reminded Elizabeth of a beehive. Some servants came up to her aunt and asked complicated questions about scents and firewood and an ice sculpture. Aunt Belphia answered confidently and quickly before they scurried off.

”Yes,” Belphia said to Elizabeth, “It is quite a lot.”

“You've been overly humble in your writings. It looks so very different in the winter…,” Elizabeth said, taking in the grounds. It wasn’t covered in snow like Hogwarts had been, but there was slush that suggested it had been snowing recently. The trees were bare and looked so much less full than they had the last time Elizabeth had been there. The grass and flower bushes were brown and dead. Only the evergreens and hedges were still green. Despite the lack of life, it was just as gorgeous and well-put together as it was in the summertime.

”I thought it would be better to get the foundations set before tonight’s snowfall.” Belphia said. She was clearly an expert at planning. An expert in good taste too evidently, when she caught sight of a man towing a crate of wine and Belphia stopped to screech at him about how that order was totally wrong and she had ordered the Châteauneuf-du-Pape and not a “late autumn” wine. Elizabeth couldn’t quite keep track.

”Christmas is a week away though,” Elizabeth said, “When does the fesitval begin?”

”Next Tuesday! And if it weren’t for your accident things would have been done weeks ago,” She said, but hesitated and added softly, “Not that you are to blame in the slightest, dear.”

Artemis had jumped up and onto Elizabeth’s shoulders, and meowed at Belphia, who pursed her lips but patted the cat’s head once. That was all it took to send Artemis into a fit of loud purring.

”I’m surprised you didn’t have me sent straight to St. Mungo’s,” Elizabeth said humorously. And despite her hatred for the place, she somewhat wished she had. At least then, she would have been able to visit Aldric.

”Those bumbling fools don’t know the first thing about proper care. No, I sent a reputable private healer to Hogwarts.” Aunt Belphia said.

”You did?” Elizabeth followed. She hadn't known that. 

Belphia nodded primly. Elizabeth smiled, watching as house elves lift candles and ornaments into the air with their magic and arrange them on the many Christmas trees that sat in just about every corner of the manor.

“Thankfully you were alright.” Belphia said absentmindedly. She seemed content to leave the subject behind, thoroughly distracted by how the house elves arranging the outside tables weren’t putting them in the proper places she’d instructed. Aliena watched her aunt bustle out the french doors, shouting. The tables only needed to be moved a few inches to the right to satisfy Belphia. Elizabeth chuckled to herself, rubbing Artemis’ chin affectionately.

”Let’s go see our room,” Elizabeth said, and made her way to the opposite wing from where the family resided, up to the far corner, into the white and blue room she hadn’t even realized she missed. Artemis curled around her shoulders like a scarf, purring loudly into Elizabeth's neck and ears. 

A generous bouquet of white primroses stood in a vase on her table, waiting for Elizabeth’s blooming smile at the sight of them.

A good half hour after dinner, Abraxas entered his father’s office.

Brutus Malfoy sat at his desk, writing on parchment and didn’t acknowledge Abraxas’ presence at all for a whole minute of silence as he scribbled away. Abraxas stood before the desk with his hands clasped behind his back, not sitting unless told. Not speaking unless spoken to. Finally, without so much as looking up, Brutus broke the silence.

“Sit.”

That was never good. Abraxas sat. Brutus continued writing for another uncomfortable minute when only the crackle of the fireplace, the scratching of the quill, and the ticking of the clock on the mantle was heard. Abraxas’ heart pounded in his ears.

His father never hurt him, no. Not since he was a child and was still spanked for being a whiny brat. His father didn’t hurt him like how Tom hurt him… But the fear of his command still pounded Abraxas’ heart. The weight of Abraxas’ desire to please was worse than any fear of pain anyone could impose. Even with Tom, that same desire to please was more of a driving force than any sort of physical punishment. 

”It was unacceptable that Aldric Shafiq got so close to Aliena.” Brutus said simply, dropping silver wax cubes into a wax spoon and placing it over the candle. It distinctly reminded Abraxas of a conversation he’d had with Aliena, when she’d done the same thing. Not looking at him when he spoke. Melting wax as if it were more important than him.

The parallel disturbed him. She wasn't even Brutus' real daughter. 

”It was not my choice,” Abraxas started, “She was sorted into Gryffindor-”

“Aliena has had the heart of a Gryffindor. She has since she came into this house. She has probably all of her life. Tell me, Abraxas, how does one control another?”

This was a lesson Brutus had taught Abraxas many times. So often that the response was engraved in his mind. ”Fear and affection," he said. 

”Fear and affection…,” Brutus repeated as he trailed off, meeting his son’s eyes when he leaned back in his great armchair. ”Do you think Aliena fears you?” Brutus finally asked.

Abraxas scoffed, “No.” He bit out.

”No.” Brutus confirmed, and continued. “Do you think she fears me?” He followed.

Abraxas couldn’t quite answer this. Everybody feared his father, that much was obvious. Brutus Malfoy was a force to be reckoned with. His power ran so deeply in the ministry, his blood status so high, and even his wife was carefully selected for that very fear he lived by. Like a marriage between a tornado and waterspout. They could rule the land and sea with such fear.

”Y-yes.” Abraxas responded, though unsure of what Brutus wanted him to think or say. 

”No. No, Abraxas. You fear me. My coworkers fear me. Even my friends fear me. Does your mother fear me, my son?”

Abraxas knew this answer. “No.”

”No,” Brutus confirmed. And this wasn’t an interrogation. It was a conversation between father and son. A lesson. A lecture. “Your mother and I are equals.” Brutus said it simply, and easily. It was a dangerous way of speaking that only the one with the best hand at the table was able to manage.

Abraxas nodded.

”Does Aliena fear me?” Brutus repeated.

Abraxas hesitated a long moment, and gave the answer he hated to be true. ”No.”

”No,” his father repeated. Reiterated. Taught. “Do you think that angers me?”

Abraxas thought about everything he knew about his father. About the way his father operated. The way he treated Aliena. The way he treated Belphia.

”No," Abraxas said. 

”No.” Brutus confirmed, and again he repeated, “No.” Brutus stood now, and gazed out the window behind him. It was snowing outside. Only the white of the flurry illuminated against the black of the night. No moon or stars— just the pale snow and the darkness beyond.

Still, Abraxas waited for his father to speak first. “Aliena is very much like your mother, have you noticed?”

Abraxas hated to admit, “She is in some ways.”

”In ways that matter. Aliena is more soft-hearted. She is more distracted. She is more free-spirited. With maturity these things may change, or they may never change at all. But she cares not for men or their power. She only cares for her own. And this is a power in and of itself.”

Abraxas nodded, taking in the information like he would during any other lecture.

Brutus continued, ”Aliena is smart. Smarter than you in some ways- not that you aren’t smart,” Brutus added, turning to the side to glance back at his son with a smile before continuing. “She is just smarter in different ways, as you are smarter in different ways than she.” He turned back to the window. Abraxas waited. His father continued. ”Before she was sorted into Gryffindor, she had the heart of a lion. You knew this, and yet you hoped she would be like us. She has never been like us, son. She is different. But the fact remains-,” he turned again and sat as he met Abraxas’ eyes, “She is our family. My kin, now. She is a member of our great house. I would ask you what that means to you, but you already know it well.”

Abraxas nodded in agreement. In understanding. Family is and has always been above everything. And it always would be.

”Tell me, son. How does one control a girl like Aliena?” A girl like Aliena. One who does not fear.

”Affection.”

”Affection.” Brutus agreed, leaning forward. “When she was sorted, you did not take kindly, I know.” And he knew because Abraxas had written him so. ”Put your childish conceptions about Hogwarts houses aside. You must reach her, Abraxas. A girl like that, you must earn respect from. You may think you inherently deserve respect, just for who you are. That is wrong. You must earn it. You must give respect. You must share it together. Through friendship, through trust.”

Abraxas ruminated on this for a quick second. “Even if we became friends, father, she- I couldn’t keep her from acting the way she does.”

”It is only natural that true friends respect one another’s opinions. It is only natural for two friends to adopt the same feelings and ideologies. She may not listen to your demands or requests. But she will at the very least listen. That is all you can do, I’m afraid. A girl like Aliena,” Brutus sighed and leaned back, looking a bit defeated, “Well… She’s rather like your mother.”

And he smiled in affection, and perhaps approval. A soft smile that was normally only reserved for his wife. And Abraxas watched in utter shock. Brutus hardly ever harbored approval or affection for anyone but his own family.

But Aliena was family, now. ”Father-,” Abraxas blurted, not being able to keep it in any longer. “Father I- I wish you wouldn’t marry her off.”

Brutus scoffed and shook his head. “Marry her off? Whyever not? It is my duty as her fa- uncle.” He quickly amended, laughing shortly at himself and shaking his head.

”If you did… I would ask that you marry her to me.”

And there it was. In the long silence, Abraxas caught his father’s look of shock melt into his face as he took in this development.

”Marry you?” Brutus said, in light disbelief and surprise.

“Yes.” Abraxas said firmly.

”You-,” Brutus scrutinized his son’s expression carefully. “You harbor feelings for her?”

”I do.”

”For how long?”

”I do not know when they started. Only that they haunt me.”

”Haunting is a good word for affection… Abraxas, you do not know her well enough.” Brutus said.

”I will.”

”You are not yet friends. As me again when you are.” He was trying to dismiss Abraxas.

”It will not change my affections and wishes.” Abraxas said confidently.

Brutus laughed and shook his head again, covering his eyes with his hand. ”You do not know the worst things about her.” Brutus said simply, as if this were the meaning of love.

”I know plenty of horrid things-,” Abraxas started.

“Yes, but you do not know the worst things. You do not know if she hates your politics and voices her unpopular opinions at dinner tables. You do not know if her favorite flower changes every month and if she’d be displeased if you couldn’t keep track. You do not know if she snores at night despite how much she claims she does not.” And Abraxas knew that Brutus was now talking about Belphia, because they were all things his mother did and because Brutus’ lips were curved up in affection. He added, “You do not know the things that you love most about her now may become things that frustrate and annoy you the most in the world. Good taste becomes pretentious. Resoluteness becomes unyielding. Bad habits become nightmares. These things which now insight the most affection will foster a new sort of hatred, and then again a rebirth of love that is so unbreakable it is impossible to comprehend. There is a compromise with marriage that knows no bounds. There is a struggle and a fight around every corner, and you must welcome it with open arms and an open mind.”

Abraxas listened with reverence and nodded, and agreed. Because he'd never heard his father speak so much about such soft matters, and because he worshiped his father just as much as he worshiped Tom Riddle. ”I know. I want to do that, with her.”

”You do not know her.” Brutus reiterated, as if this was enough. As if that was his only reason.

”I don’t care. I want her.”

”You will hate her.”

”Maybe. And then I will love her for it, as you say.”

”She is too much for you, son,” Brutus finally admitted slowly.

”I don’t care.” Abraxas responded quickly. “She is already too much for me. I still want to marry her.”

Brutus sighed longly. “Young stubbornness,” he muttered. Abraxas still stayed silent, waiting.

“I’m afraid, son, that this conversation has no purpose. I never intended to marry her off like other young women. I agreed with her from the start— she may choose her husband-,”

”To your approval.” Abraxas emphasised.

”Yes, but she must choose. Do you think she will choose you?” Brutus asked, genuinely curious. Were these affections mutual?

Abraxas’ expression faltered, and Brutus knew they were not. ”If you wish her to be your wife you must make her feelings align with your own. If not, I am powerless.”

”You could disapprove of any other prospects but mine,” Abraxas endeavored.

Brutus chuckled at his son’s determination. ”I will do no such thing, Abraxas. Make her love you, if you will. But I intend to keep my promise.”

”But father-,”

”I will do my best to keep any unwitting prospects away, but that is the extent to it. Now run off to bed, I have work to finish.”

And that was that, because Brutus began writing again and when he began to work there was no interrupting him. Abraxas stood and left the room.

Maybe… Maybe he would stop in the kitchens for some milk before bed.

When he entered, it was silent and dark. No moon shone through the window. Abraxas stared at the empty spot on the floor before it. Something in him somewhat deflated, and he didn’t know what he thought he’d been holding out for.

He left without his milk and went straight to another night of restless sleep.

The next morning, Elizabeth awoke to a winter wonderland. Everything was covered in a fresh layer of snow, and she found that she had woken up later than usual because sunlight was already peeking over the horizon, sending everything sparkling with the day’s light. A prism of color shone into her bedroom window from a reflection through an icicle.

She scrambled out of bed. It felt like the first time at Hogwarts when the snow had fallen. The excitement she felt was renewed by it being her being her first night back at the manor. A perfect setting for a white Christmas.

And the perfect setting to go for a walk. Though, to Elizabeth, everything was the perfect setting for a walk.

She dressed quickly and was out her bedroom door faster than any attending servants could tell her to slow down in the halls. But as she about about to bound down the grand staircase, she hesitated, and looked over to the opposite wing from where she stood. Abraxas’ door was on the very edge of the hall, shut still. She always knew when he was awake because he left his door wide open with no shame whatsoever.

The original plan of laying low with Tom hadn’t worked. He knew what she thought of him, and wanted to creep his way closer. And she knew that he would have his way, at the expense of people she cared about and wanted to protect. So it was time for a plan B.

She would have to become begrudging friends with him. Let him think he had her right where he wanted her. Reveal a few false secrets here and there to throw him off the scent. And if she was meant to be friendly, she would have to be friends with his followers. Abraxas was the only one of them who could actually be on her side— a formidable ally in the face of perpetual danger.

He wasn’t all bad, she knew. He had protected her in conversation many times, and even protected her from Tom (though she had erased his memory of that). He could certainly be a good buffer to stand between them. And she needed someone to be on her side more than ever. Not one of her friends, no. Someone from the inside.

Like Snape had been for Dumbledore, perhaps. Maybe not so overtly, because Abraxas was much stupider than Snape and certainly wouldn’t be able to stand directly against Tom in any way. But somewhat like that.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and thought for a moment, glancing behind her out a window at the snowy white outside. The clear blue sky, and the very distant practice quidditch goal posts. She sighed and marched up to his door, knocking loudly and obnoxiously.

Abraxas startled within, and the only reason Elizabeth knew was a shocked snort and gasp.

”What?!” His groggy voice shouted, clearly grumpy.

Elizabeth opened the door halfway without a care in the world. Abraxas’ blonde hair was muffed up and absolutely wild. His bedsheets were around this ankles and he splayed across the bed like a starfish on his stomach. Elizabeth almost giggled. But she kept herself together.

”W-whatareyoudoinghere?!” Abraxas said very quickly, sitting up and grabbing for the comforter at the end of the bed frantically.

Elizabeth sent him a cheeky smile, and held up her arm and outstretched hand. Abraxas’ broom zoomed across his room and into her awaiting palm. She leaned it against the wall of his room next to the door. “Just thought I should wake you. ‘Show up early and be the last to leave,’ and all.” Elizabeth said knowingly, doing a poor imitation of Belphia’s tone.

Abraxas groaned and shoved his head in the pillow.

But when Elizabeth returned back to the manor from her long walk in the forest, she found Abraxas zooming around in the air with a practice snitch. As she continued on the path leading back to the house, she watched him swoop and miss and then plummet ten feet and then back up again. It looked unpleasant— like a poorly designed rollercoaster.

She grew close enough that he spotted her. She waved, but he simply turned and flew off as if he hadn’t seen. To Elizabeth’s expectations, he made a show of a really dangerous and complicated dive that resulted in him finally catching the snitch. He hovered nearer to the snowy ground and nodded at her, trying to act nonchalant.

As much as she hated to admit, Abraxas was impressive as ever. Even more so than some of the quidditch matches she'd seen during her time at Hogwarts. He was on par with Edward Spencer's own formidable skill. 

“Lovely morning,” Elizabeth commented, suppressing her laughter. Because he was clearly posturing in a nonchalant way that showed just how much he had been showing off. 

”Not too bad,” Abraxas agreed, hovering in the air next to her as they both took in the sparkling grounds. Things were already starting to melt, and the house had awoken in a bustle of movement and chaos. But it was nice and quiet, quieter than normal because of the snow.

Inside the manor, Belphia Malfoy approached her husband, who was standing at a floor-length window on the second story. She held up a steaming cup of tea for him, which he took gratefully. He’d woken later than usual, after staying up late working.

“Did you see? Abraxas is up early practicing! I think my talk with him in the carriage yesterday actually may have motivated him,” She said in somewhat disbelief, because Abraxas never cared much for listening to his mother’s quidditch advice unless she was actively forcing him to do something.

Brutus nodded, and then gestured his chin out the window where his gaze remained.

Belphia followed his gaze and took in the picture of Aliena and Abraxas conversing in the back field, where the quidditch hoops were. He was stepping off his broom, and saying something that made Elizabeth buckle into laughter. He started chuckling too, as if he’d just said something very funny and couldn’t help himself. Belphia watched in utter surprise. She didn’t even know the two had the capacity to get along. From both her niece and son’s letters over the course of the fall term, neither spoke of each other much, and when they did it wasn’t fond or even warm in the slightest.

“He asked me for her hand in marriage last night,” Brutus said. Belphia choked on her tea but quickly composed herself.

“What?!” Belphia demanded. Brutus sent her a sideway glance. A look that said, ‘I don’t know either’.

“But they’re always fighting.” Belphia said. The idea so absurd it was hard to comprehend. Now she watched the children with a more scrupulous gaze. Aliena was turning toward the forest with her arms outstretched, animatedly describing some sort of scene. No doubt it was something about her beloved walking path or how pretty the trees were in the light or something. Aliena was always going on tangents about those sorts of romantic ideas of the beauty of nature. But after what Brutus just told her, she caught the look on Abraxas’ face, which softened ever-so-slightly, and followed Aliena’s expression carefully. As Aliena turned back to him, he hardened again and made a show of rolling his eyes in disgust.

“I know. But then again, we were always fighting.” Brutus commented, with an wistful gaze. Neither of them could tear their eyes away from the children. Belphia took a shaky sip of her tea.

“Surely she does not return his affections,” Belphia said. Brutus laughed and shook his head.

“No, of course she doesn’t. That girl wears her heart on her sleeve. No doubt, it would be so obvious even the blind could tell.”

”What did you tell him?”

”I told him he should try and court her.”

”Brutus!” Belphia exclaimed, slapping his shoulder in scolding.

Brutus chuckled over his tea. “He will get bored eventually, surely.”

”You didn’t,” Belphia said pointedly. Brutus smiled at her and shrugged. Then, her tone went soft and sympathetic. “But… Brutus- I don’t think she comes from… I don’t think she is the type to consider such a thing.”

”What, marrying a cousin?” Brutus asked simply, and the empty response hung in the air between them only because the truth was so palpable it needed no words. There was an understanding between them about such marriages. Marrying a cousin wasn't unheard of, so to speak. But Brutus and Belphia were more of the progressive sort in that opinion amongst their friends.

And Belphia’s face was a bit sad.

Brutus smiled again, but a bitter kind softened in sympathy. “I know…,” he sighed, “I know.”

”His first heartbreak…,” Belphia trailed off. She naïvely wished such a thing would never happen to her little boy. That he’d marry the first girl he fell in love with and they would have a pack of grandchildren and their days would be spent changing nappies and falling asleep on sofas. Now as they watched, Belphia and Brutus’ attitudes were much different. Bittersweet. Remorseful. Wishing they could change things to come. Things that would be impossible to change. Love was, truly, the only force that couldn’t be prevented.

They watched as Abraxas zoomed off on his broom and Aliena turned and made way toward the manor. But as soon as Aliena’s back was turned, Abraxas hovered in the air for a bit. Watching her go.

Brutus spoke. Profound words, of the deepest sincerity.

”It seems we’ve known her a lifetime, does it not? She has crashed into our lives and I can scarcely recall a time when you or Abraxas did not complain or command or demand for more of her. Aliena will marry, my darling. But she will marry well, and of her own accord. He could be a chimney sweep, the minister for magic, or a muggle. Who knows what sort of man she will marry….? But mark my words,” he turned to his wife, who was still staring out the window, “Whoever she does choose to marry- well… he will be a great man. Terrible- no doubt-,” he scoffed, and Belphia laughed too and nodded, picturing Aliena presenting a great lumping oaf to them for her hand, “But great…” Brutus finished.

And deep down they both knew the glaring, horrible truth. Abraxas was not great enough for her. And he never would be.

And with it the impending doom of their only son's first heartbreak. 

That day and the next flew by in a whirlwind of movement, disorder, and lots and lots of screaming.

Mrs. Malfoy’s voice echoed through the manor perpetually, issuing firm commands to the servants, insisting that the decor be absolutely perfect. No corner of the grand estate was spared from the festive transformation — the grand ballroom was draped in rich emerald and gold, chandeliers glittered like starlight, and the massive fireplace at the center was already crackling with enchanted flames that sparkled silver.

In the drawing rooms, long tables were being prepared for the endless feasts to come, laden with silverware so polished it gleamed like mirrors. Spell-enhanced evergreen trees stood tall in nearly every room, their delicate ornaments glimmering with enchantments that ensured they twinkled just-so, with a small burst of magic at irregular intervals, sending a soft, warm glow throughout the house.

The guest rooms were another story altogether. Mrs. Malfoy had left strict instructions to ensure that every room was "cozily elegant" for their aristocratic guests, each with their own unique requirements depending on the guests preferences. This meant silk sheets, embroidered pillows, and magically warmed comforters had to be laid out in preparation for the arriving families. Belphia, calm and collected as ever, had taken charge of overseeing the guest wing, while Brutus spent his time ensuring everything went to plan — although, truth be told, he often left the more mundane tasks to the elves, preferring to focus on other matters.

As time narrowed closer and closer until the party, the tension in the house was palpable. Belphia had not rested since the preparations had begun. Her face, usually so serene, was pinched with concentration, though her movements never lost their grace. She inspected every decoration with a hawk’s eye, ensuring that even the smallest detail would reflect the grandeur of the Malfoy name.

Meanwhile, in the kitchens, the scents of spiced meats, roasted chestnuts, and sugary pastries filled the air, mingling with the sound of frantic chopping and clanging pots. The house-elves worked tirelessly, preparing the foundations of the extravagant meals that would be served over the five-day event. Guests from only the best of families would be staying at the manor — important figures, old pureblood families, and even a foreign couple from France. The Malfoy name had to be upheld, and Mrs. Malfoy would accept nothing less than perfection.

Not to mention the grand ball that would take place on Christmas Day, inviting at least a hundred or more guests to participate. Even the Minister for Magic was on the list of attendees. Which meant everything had to be perfect. 

As the evening approached, Mrs. Malfoy took one final walk through the manor. Her cobalt eyes swept over the preparations with a critical air. Everything seemed in order — though she did raise an eyebrow at one of the garlands, flicking her wand to straighten a bow that had gone askew. Satisfied, she turned toward Aliena, who was watching with interest.

Aliena had been tasked with reviewing her manners, in the form of books rather than Ms. Mollin’s painstaking company, and practicing endlessly for her musical performance at the end of the week. She'd created scores and sent them out for the orchestra, and picked Christmas-y songs to sing that would be fitting for such an event. 

“The guests will begin arriving tomorrow,” Brutus said as he came to Aliena's side, his voice low but steady. “Are you ready?”

“Of course,” she replied, her lips curving into a small smile.

“You must present a perfect picture of health and happiness. Rumors have already circled about your accident. Do me a favor, and prove them false.” Belphia joined in, her tone adopting a natural scorn after her days of tirading around the house.

Abraxas smirked, but there was an intensity in his eyes as he glanced toward the ballroom. Aliena nodded in submission. 

As the clock chimed, signaling dinner, the manor seemed to take a breath. The house was still, and that anticipation hung in the air like static before a storm. Tomorrow, the guests would arrive, and the Malfoy Manor would come alive.

But for now, there was the last meal on death row.

It was very quiet at the dinner table that night. They didn’t eat at one of the many prepared tables, but in a makeshift set-up meant to be taken down before tomorrow. Aliena had questions about the events she would be attending, but any questions she could ask would only lead to more stress, and she didn’t want that. So she stayed quiet. In fact, after the past two days, maybe a silent meal was just what they needed. Quiet calm before that impending storm.

As Abraxas and Aliena walked up the stairs, Belphia and Brutus remained behind to oversee clean up and the shutting down of the house.

Aliena finally let one of her questions out. ”Which friends of yours will be coming?”

”All of them.” Abraxas answered.

“All? But surely not- not Tom?” She asked, stomach plummeting. Elizabeth had assumed that Belphia would have only invited pureblood members of high society. Tom was just a halfblood orphan with no name or standing at all. Sure, she remembered the time when they first met in this very manor when he’d attended a Malfoy ball. But a regular exclusive festival certainly wouldn’t include him. Especially with Tom's lack of family.

”Of course he is.”

”But he’s a halfblood!” Elizabeth exclaimed, as if her protesting could change anything.

Abraxas raised a brow at her. “How do you know that?” He asked pointedly.

How, truly? Elizabeth realized that Tom had bought her story about Abraxas telling her about his heritage, but Abraxas in reality hadn’t told her anything. 

“Riddle is a muggle name. He isn’t one of the sacred twenty eight.” She said simply, pretending as if this was obvious.

Abraxas pursed his lips, realizing it may have been a stupid question he'd asked. To anyone who didn't know, it would have been common sense. ”He has one of the most prestigious lineages of anybody, halfblood or not.” Abraxas said firmly, with that hardness and reverence in his voice that only came when speaking about Tom.

“And what lineage is that?” Elizabeth ventured, hoping he would tell her a truth of which she already knew. That Tom was the Heir of Slytherin. Because if Abraxas told her, it meant that he might have gained a motem of trust for her. And it might make it easier if Elizabeth’s knowledge about Tom being the heir of Slytherin were brought to explanation, rather than having to be kept secret.

Her in the Chamber of Secrets. Her knowing who Tom was. If Abraxas told her now, this could be the explanation. 

”A lineage that only the most exclusive of inner circles and their families know.” He said it proudly. How could these exclusive wizarding families just discard the murder of a muggle born student? A pit of dread at the thought that they may think it was deserved. Just because of poor Myrtle's blood. 

”So Aunt Belphia and Uncle Brutus know?” Elizabeth questioned. How far did this run? Had all the Knights gone yapping to their parents? And if so, where did that leave their regard for Tom? Did they treat him as an equal? As a prince?

”Of course.” Abraxas said, and turned on his heel to march into his rooms.

Elizabeth clenched her jaw and walked the other direction.

Not only was Tom going to be haunting the halls for the next five days, but the pureblooded elite families knew of his being the heir of Slytherin. That gave him power, influence. It gave him a right that discarded his muggle roots and brought him upward in the ranks.

She had been foolish to have thought for a moment that Tom wouldn’t be there. The past few days had been too blissful without any looming threats. But now there he was, looming.

Elizabeth didn’t get much sleep that night in between her revolving strategies on how to survive the next five days.

There were ten families arriving, counting the three separate branches of the Rosiers and two branches of Blacks. More attendants, famous and powerful, would arrive on Christmas Day to enjoy a lavish feast and then dancing. That was the event in which Elizabeth would perform. Until then, there was the posturing and hosting of ten families. 

The first to arrive were the French Rosiers. They hardly spoke any English, so Elizabeth's fluency came in handy. They were the more distant branch of the Rosier’s.

It was only one man and one woman, with no children and just a house elf in tow. They were quiet old in appearance, and Elizabeth wondered if they were unable to sire any heirs. It was times like these she was grateful for Abraxas, who whispered narrations and answered any questions into Elizabeth's ear when the couple wasn’t looking. They had one 27 year old son, but he was off in Asia doing work for the French government.

Their carriage was opulent, and also pulled by Abraxans. They treated Elizabeth well, but dismissively, which was very much appreciated to Elizabeth. After their arrival, the rest came in quick succession.

The Malfoy's and Elizabeth presented a polished receiving line on the steps while they greeted each guest and introduced Elizabeth to those she did not know.

Next were the Lestranges, with Roderick being the only son. Abraxas talked to Roderick was they waited for the other families arrivals. Elizabeth took this as her que to help instruct house elves to where each assigned rooms were for luggage, while Belphia and Brutus chatted with the parents.

Then, the Mulcibers. Elizabeth was surprised to find Wulfric was the second child, but his older sister was married off and not in attendance.

Then, the other two families of Rosiers.

Justus and Amabel of course with their father and mother Felix and Bellona. Then there was Felix’s brother Geraint, and his wife Alianne. They had an eight year old son Evan Rosier, whose name was familiar but Elizabeth couldn’t quite place. He had a nastily devious expression that told Elizabeth he would be a handful. And they also had a ten year old daughter Druella, who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Amabel smiled at Elizabeth viciously as she introduced Evan and Druella. Elizabeth could only guess what nasty things Amabel conspired for her little cousins to do to her. Druella stared up at Elizabeth in indifference, at least. 

After that, it was the Blacks.

Both families arrived together— a united front. There was Pollux and his wife Irma. These were Alphard and Walburga’s parents, but they also had a younger brother Cygnus, who was only five and clung to his mother’s robes. The other Blacks were Arcturus and his wife Melania, who brought Lucretia and Orion in tow. Both children seperated off, entering the manor like they were already very familiar and knew exactly where to go.

Elizabeth felt quite dizzy and overwhelmed, taking in all the new faces and names.

But more families arrived so she had no reprieve. Abraxas had already gone off to one of the parlors with Justus, Alphard, Wulfric, and Rodrick to entertain his friends. The rest of the children and couples congregated within the manor, either in their rooms or greeting one another. House elves bustled about with luggage and stable boys carted around the carriages being pulled by thestrals or winged horses.

For a brief moment, it was just Elizabeth, Belphia, and Brutus. Belphia smiled over at Elizabeth approvingly. At least she wasn’t totally on her own.

The Dolohov family arrived followed closely by the Notts. Thankfully, Elizabeth remembered Antonin from the train and around Hogwarts. He was a fifth year and friends with Orion, who he flocked to. His mother was deeply pregnant, and held her belly as she greeted them.

Dorian was the only son to Humphrey and Penelope Nott. He stopped and greeted her more respectfully than any of the other boys had, and entered the house close behind his parents.

Lastly, there was the Avery family. Elizabeth greeted the children Marius and Geneva, both looking a bit sour by her presence but were altogether respectful. At least neither of them were overtly rude, with their parents being present. And Elizabeth greeted the parents as well until finally it all seemed to be over. Except for one person, who Elizabeth had been anxious to encounter. 

But Brutus and Belphia turned and began to walk inside to greet their guests further.

Elizabeth knew that the first part of the day and early afternoon would be spent for their guests to settle in, until they had dinner that evening.

But… That presence loomed, and she just had to ask before they walked inside.

“Where’s Tom Riddle?” Elizabeth questioned.

”He arrived by floo from Hogsmeade this morning. He stayed at Hogwarts for the beginning of the week while we got our preparations in order, but he’s here now,” Belphia explained quickly, eager to meet the guests and help everybody get sorted.

“But-,” Elizabeth started, but Belphia was already gone. She turned to Brutus, who was already walking away.

He’s been at the manor? All morning?

He wasn’t in the receiving line, and Elizabeth certainly hadn’t greeted him. The Malfoys had all taken their breakfasts in their own rooms that morning and only met in the great hall in order to prepare to greet everybody. Had Tom arrived at some point during that time?

And Elizabeth had missed it? All this morning she worried about his arrival, and he's been in the manor the entire time?

As Elizabeth stood on the steps outside that lead into the house, she felt a prick on the back of her neck. Her eyes snapped up. In one of the second story rooms in the guest wing, a figure looked down on her.

It was distant, and the room was dim, but Elizabeth recognized him immediately.

It was Tom, of course. Looking through the window down at the steps where the receiving line had been. He smiled and nodded his head. Then his attention turned, as if someone was calling for him, and without a second glance he let the curtain fall and walked in toward whatever had garnered his attention.

A chill ran down her spine. Had he been watching the whole time? 

And with a terrible realization, Elizabeth recognized the window he watched her from. After all, his view was one she was very familiar with. 

It was the room that was right next to her own.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth wanted to make a break for it to the wine cellar or greenhouse or some quiet corner of the manor that she could collect her thoughts and not be disturbed.

It was a cruel twist of fate that Belphia called her over as soon as she entered the manor and shut the doors behind her. She was sucked into polite conversation and niceties. Thankfully, the majority of the children had gone off to do whatever it was they were doing. All that remained were the adults and older girls Walburga and Lucretia, who were observing the decorations and chatting softly to one another.

After drifting left and right, the girls came to approach her. Aliena greeted them again, and they followed the crowd of adults as a tour of the manor commenced. The girls, while cold and uninterested, weren’t overly rude. Here and there, Elizabeth caught side-eyed exchanges of judgement, but overall Elizabeth’s performance as an upper-class daughter of good breeding was good enough to be bought.

When they asked questions on the decorations or art displays, Elizabeth answered well. 

Walburga explained how the other older children had grown bored of joining in on the tours after the years, which Elizabeth didn’t object to at all. It was good to get away from Geneva and her friends, and Amabel. And even better to stay away from the Knights of Walpurgis.

They explained that they had attended this ball since their youth, and knew the grounds very well, but Walburga and Lucretia still participated in the tour each year just to see whatever new statues, paintings, or magical artifacts the Malfoy’s had obtained in the past year. They were only one year older, but they seemed miles more mature. They promenaded through the drawing rooms, ball room, the gallery, and greenhouse, which had been stocked with a collection of rare and magical plants and warmed with magic to keep them healthy. Servants carried around hors d'oeuvres and refreshments on trays, which the girls indulged in but Elizabeth did not.

Before they exited the manor, servants brought everybody their outdoor cloaks and coats and muffs-- well furred and lavishly gorgeous.

When they stepped outside they saw the large open tent that had the outdoor seating, lovely displays of plants and ice sculptures, fountains frozen in beautiful shapes of water. Small enchanted dolls ice skated within each fountain’s base. The nannies had brought the youngest children outside to run about, laughing. Large nutcracker statues crunched on nuts and whatever rocks the children tossed in their mouths. Animated snowmen wearing top hats and dresses and pipes and icicles for noses waved at them. Little Evan Rosier, the troublemaker, kicked a baby snowman over, but it reformed as if nothing had happened. He continued to do so, as if this was some great fun game.

The maze’s hedges were tall and covered in magical white flowers that bloomed even in the snow and the entrance was flanked by two of the largest nutcracker statues in full livery.

”It looks even more beautiful at night, all lit up,” Elizabeth explained to the girls, who looked on in approval that could only possibly be so subdued because of their familiarity with such incredible lavishments. The couples were all walking through the hedges now, and the nannies that Elizabeth hadn’t seen in the welcoming procesion herded the children inside and up to the nursery, which was freshly stocked with brand new toys and plushes that moved of their own accord. Belphia had even wrapped them all up in great piles for each of the children to tear into upon their arrival— a prelude to what was to come for them on Christmas day. Brutus thought it was over the top to get them all such gifts, but Belphia claimed it was a strategy to distract the children and keep them away from trouble. Elizabeth thought it was quite clever of her too, because if the children were happy and kept away from the crowd then the parents couldn’t be too far behind.

Servants dressed in well-pressed plain robes appeared with glasses of champagne and buttered rum on silver trays, and each one of them took a glass as they entered the maze. Mrs. Dolohov, who was pregnant, took one of them and began to drink to Elizabeth’s utter horror. Was it not well-known by now that it was dangerous for women to drink while pregnant?

Instead of saying something, she looked over at Walburga and Lucretia. Neither of them batted an eye. And neither did anyone else. Oh no. Elizabeth couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t say anything. If she did, it would be deeply improper. And they most likely wouldn’t even believe her if she did. Elizabeth took a long swig of her champagne and kept her mouth shut, looking anywhere but at Mrs. Dolohov from that point onward.

They walked through the confusing maze, which Elizabeth had memorized in all her wanderings. Different dead ends had alcoves of statues or ice sculptures, and even a display of their immaculate white peacocks in a gilded and magically warmed pen where snow escaped them. But they began to caw and screech at the sight of them, so the crowd moved on quickly. Beautiful creatures, but hideously annoying.

Finally, they reached the center. A giant white stone statue of a minotaur stood on a pedestal at the center. It’s head moved and turned and blinked, but it never spoke or moved otherwise. It looked beautiful and somewhat disturbing. Finally, they made their exit and rounded back on a stone trail covered by a tunnel of draping wisteria, frozen in life and imbued with tiny glittering lights.

The trail led to the garden, all winter flowers and plants and paths cleared of snow and ice. It looked like a winter wonderland from a fairytale. Even though Elizabeth had seen it all before, she still marveled at the well-thought immaculate beauty of it. Like the glittering diamond on a ring, it seemed to be. The guests placed their empty glasses on awaiting servants trays and trailed back into the house. Some guests broke off and up the stairs to their rooms, and a group of the gentlemen went to the men’s parlor for some cigars or smoking pipes or cigarettes.

Walburga and Lucretia followed the only two women remaining who hadn’t returned up to their rooms— Belphia and Irma Black. They made their way to the atrium, where a circular table with tea and cakes and sandwiches sat prepared and awaiting them.

Four seats, not five.

Before anybody would notice otherwise, Elizabeth bowed to them and said, “It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Black. Miss Walburga Black, Miss Lucretia Black.”

They nodded back to her. “Will you not be joining us?” Lucretia asked, and Elizabeth was surprised to see that Lucretia and Walburga were looking at her expectantly. While Elizabeth’s presence among them was very quiet and informative, it seemed they didn’t protest her company as much as Elizabeth would have thought. She came up with a suitable excuse quickly.

Elizabeth said, with a pleasant graciousness, “I’m afraid I have some matters of the house to attend to.” She gave a slight curtsy, and excused herself.

Before she went she saw a twinkle of approval in Belphia’s eye. As she walked away, a ghost of a smile infected Elizabeth’s lips. She was better at this than she would have thought.

Rather than return to her rooms, though she wanted to, she instead made her way to the kitchens. Better avoid the two companies in the house who she’d rather not encounter— the Knights of Walpurgis and Geneva’s trio. Who Amabel had made her home with, Elizabeth did not know or care.

And besides, it couldn’t hurt to actually attend to matters of the house. While Belphia wasn’t there to instruct, she would surely appreciate Elizabeth's help. And maybe helping wouldn’t be so bad. She had learned a lot from the past few days of watching Belphia in the art of hosting.

The kitchen was alive with movement and noises of cooking.

The head house elf was instructing the others, and they worked in a well-formed hub of movement. The elves squeaked their greetings, and the group of human servants in the corner lounged around a table. Some were helping, but most of them were sitting around the table and eating a collection of food and drink. But as soon as they noticed her, they immediately stood to attention and greeted her. Elizabeth saw that the mood that had been jovial, casual, and lovely dissipated with her entrance.

”Don’t worry, I’m not here to ruin your lunch. Please, sit,” Elizabeth said to them happily. They did, but their conversation was much more strained, and they were notably not drinking from the bottles of whatever wine they had.

Elizabeth approached them and asked, “May I have some?”

”Of course, Miss Greengrass,” one of them said quickly. She smiled and they poured her a glass, crystal instead of the wooden ones they drank from.

She held it up to them, smiling as she said, “Cheers.” They all balked at her, and then held up their cups, and drank. Elizabeth drifted away from them, allowing them reprieve as she asked the house elves questions about the dishes they concocted. They eagerly offered her spoons of sauces to taste and slices of fresh pastries and bread. She took each offer and nodded at them, voicing her approval. Eventually, she moved onto the parchment stack that Belphia had written with list of various requirements. It included the meals, the beverages, the itinerary, and even random and confusing preferences from each guest. A good essay, worthy of a professor at Hogwarts.

She sipped her wine slowly, and made sure to finish the glass so as not to be disrespectful to the servants as she read. They gradually grew louder again, returning to their conversation and Elizabeth pointedly not listening as she read the instructions. After she finished, she spoke to the head elf. 

”Make sure you bring out the tart last, it’s the main dessert,” She said to the head house elf, who nodded eagerly at her instruction, “And it's certainly the best. And I think I do recall from my Aunt saying that Mr. Nott prefers white wine rather than red, if I’m not mistaken?” The house elf agreed, saying fervently that she remembered the misus saying such things, so Elizabeth added, “The Chardonnay would pair better than the Sauvignon Blanc, no?” The house elf nodded her head in realization, “Yes, missus! Your right, missus, we will bring him the Chardonnay at dinner. Missus is very astute.” She commended.

”Oh, and it said here that Mr. Pollux Black prefers tobacco from Brazil and not India. I’m not sure if they have that in the men’s parlor, but they have all gone to have a smoke in the men's parlour. Make sure you bring the correct blend if it has not been brought yet.”

”Of course missus! Has the Brazil been brought?” The elf asked to the human servants. They all shook their heads, balking a bit, some of them standing up immediately and fussing with their rumpled uniforms. One of them barked at another that he’d spilled jam on his collar, and the other cursed.

”You all eat,” Elizabeth assured, with a smile. “Can you spare an elf?”

”Er-,” one of the servants said, “House elves are not to be seen unless they are members of the guests house.” All of the guests elves were still attending to the rooms, and hadn’t yet made it to the kitchens. And wasn't that the purpose of the human servants in the first place? Squibs and wizarding kind alike had been hired in order to ensure no house elves were presented. Which all felt rather silly to Elizabeth, given that every family here had their own house elves. 

“Of course, thank you. Mimmy,” Elizabeth said to the elf who had spoken, “Please go fetch the Brazilian blend for me from the cellar. I’ll take it myself.”

They all looked to her with great relief.

“Yes!” Mimmy squeaked and popped away. She popped back again a couple moments later.

Elizabeth took the box of the tobacco blend and turned to the human servants and elves as she said, “Thank you all very much. Enjoy your lunch. You’re all doing an incredible job.”

When she approached the men’s parlor, she concluded she shouldn’t enter. It was for men, after all, and not women. Elizabeth instead stopped a passing servant, who was returning in from his duties outside.

“May you deliver this Brazilian blend to Mr. Nott in the men’s parlor?” She asked, handing him the box. He looked surprised, and nodded. She took the silver tray from him and watched him go down the hall.

He only knocked once and the door immediately opened. It was Brutus.

“The Brazilian blend, sir, for Mr. Nott” the servant said. Brutus nodded, and stepped to the side to let him enter. The voices inside were loud, and she distantly heard someone say, “Perfect timing!” inside. Brutus caught Elizabeth’s eye from where she stood down the hall. He blinked at her. She nodded. And as the servant exited, he smiled at her, before shutting the door behind him.

The servant met back with her and she handed him the tray.

“Have the servants in the maze been relieved for lunch?” She asked. He shook his head, nose still pink from the cold. She nodded, and said, “I’ll go relieve them. And,” she added, “make sure you all have enough wine to get warm, but not too drunk. But in the case you do, there’s some pepper-up potion in a cabinet in the cellar. Nobody will notice it’s missing with how many people will be using it. If anyone gives you trouble, tell them Aliena drank some.” The servant stared at her wide-eyed, and then nodded and scurred off.

Elizabeth went around outside, one by one, relieving any servant left behind, tossing some left-over hors d'oeuvres to the peacocks along the way, and then when she returned to the kitchens she assured them all to stay eating and instead delivered the stable boys lunches to them personally, sneaking a few cheap bottles of wine from the cellar that nobody would ever miss along the way.

She found them in the stables, struggling with the Abraxans who were whining and stomping and making a dangerous fuss. They all looked cold and miserable. Elizabeth put the baskets of food on the ground and urgently said, “Malt whiskey! Where’s the whiskey?!”

They scrambled to a large cask and opened it into the troughs. The Abraxans all began to drink it and settled down quickly. The stable boys sighed and thanked Elizabeth with relief. There was a small room where they could congregate and get warm, even with a small fireplace. She waved her wand at the dry wood in the firebox and it sparked to life in an immediate whoosh. The room was already starting to warm, and they pressed their hands closer to the fire. She used her magic to set the tiny table of food, chairs, and cast a warming charm on the room. She noticed an ice box in the corner. "What's that for?" She asked as the boys opened the blanket-covered baskets and greedily took out plates and plates of food and wine.

"It's got meat. For the thestrals." One of them said, looking up at her with a smile. 

"Nasty creatures. Don't ever know where to throw it, really." Another said. 

They chuckled. "It's worse than a ghost. Toss meat into the air and it just-.. disappears," another declared, as if this was a ghost story. 

"I can take some out to them." Elizabeth said, curiously looking into the icebox. Through a bite of warm buttered bread, one of the stable boys said, "Oh, no Miss Greengrass, you've done enough." 

"Yes, bringing us food and helping with the Abraxans!" Another agreed joyfully. 

"It's quite alright," Elizabeth said, already grabbing a few paper-wrapped packets of meat. "I can see them." 

She looked back to find they'd stopped digging in and were awkwardly looking at the floor in shame. She blinked and quickly fumbled, "I-I didn't mean that in a bad way. They're perfectly interesting to me, actually. With my time at Hogwarts and all. Where are they kept?" 

"Oh.. Right you must have read about them before, haven't you?" 
"They're in a pen just behind the stables. They like the cold. Are they fuzzy?" 
One of the others scoffed at him, "No, you daft fool. They're skeletons, they don't have skin."

Elizabeth chuckled too, taking another package of meat so that she had a great lump of flesh in her arms. "They do have skin, actually. Just a bit reptilian and black. Like a lizard," She explained. They looked at her in confusion. She laughed again, turning the mood a bit more jovial. 
"Like bats, their wings. Great and black and their mouths are like a birds," She explained. They all listened closely and one of them came up and offered to take the meat from her hands. Another stood hurriedly, annoyed that he hadn't thought of helping her first. By the end, they all trailed with her to the back of the stables. As they approached the outdoor pen, they hesitated around like they were a bit afraid. 

Elizabeth looked up at the great docile creatures, and one of them whispered fearfully, "Look, you can see their prints in the snow." 
And Elizabeth realized they must not be able to see at all save for the hoof prints. But she could. She turned and unwrapped a package of prime rib, tossing it into the air. One of the thestrals caught it and began to swallow it whole. The stable boys oo'd and ahh'd and stepped back behind each other as if they could hide. But when she turned back for another piece of meat, they puffed up and pretended as if they weren't afraid at all. Elizabeth laughed. 

When Elizabeth reentered the manor she was surprised to find a nanny holding onto a screaming Evan Rosier at the landing of the stairs. He was kicking and punching the poor woman, and eventually he broke through her grasp only to slip. Just before he tumbled down the steps, Elizabeth’s wand was out and she caught him in midair. He went silent immediately, his tears stopping and looking down in fear. She levitated him carefully back onto the landing on his feet. He breathed heavily and watched Elizabeth come up the steps slowly until she kneeled before him.

”Are you alright, Mr. Rosier?” She asked.

He must not have been used to older people addressing him so formally, because he wrung his little hands in front of himself and stuttered, “Y-yes.”

Elizabeth smiled at him warmly. ”You shouldn’t cause your nanny a fuss. You could have gotten very hurt.”

He glanced down the stairs in fear.

“My nutcracker broke.” He said pathetically, but stepped further away from the steps. Elizabeth stood and took notice of a nutcracker cast aside on the hallway floor.

”I-I did repair it, Miss Greengrass,” the nanny said nervously. Elizabeth smiled, and looked back down at Evan with a raised brow. He wiped his tears furiously, which he must have just realized still stained his cheeks.

”She repaired it wrong,” he said firmly. The nanny frowned in deep annoyance.

”Is that so?” Elizabeth asked, and lifted her hand. The nutcracker picked up from the floor and flew into her awaiting hand. This little display of wandless magic caused his eyes to light up in boyish wonder. She inspected it, finding nothing amiss. ”He seems perfectly healthy to me,” she said.

He scrunched up his nose at her and said, “He’s not a person. He can’t be healthy.”

”Oh, but he looks like a dashing prince to me. Have you never seen The Nutcracker?”

”The Nutcracker?” He asked.

”It’s a muggle ballet,” Elizabeth responded.

He scrunched up his nose in disgust and stuck out his tongue, “Yuck!” How strange it was for children so young to have already been instilled with blood superiority complexes.

”I know, nastily wonderful isn’t it?” Elizabeth asked in delight, and her response confused him. He crossed his arms with a judgmentally confused look. Elizabeth began to slowly walk toward the nursery, and Evan followed beside her, the nanny falling back behind them. ”The nutcracker turns into a strong prince, and defeats the rat king!” Elizabeth said excitedly.

Evan’s head piqued up in poorly-concealed curiosity. “Rat king?”

“Yes, and all his little rat minions. He took up his sword,” Elizabeth lifted the little hand of the nutcracker holding his little sword, and made a swashbuckling gesture into her own stomach, feigning a gutting stabbing noise, “and slaughtered all the nasty rats.”

”Ewww, that sounds gross.” Evan said firmly, but he looked secretly delighted. Elizabeth smiled.

“Amabel says you’re a rat!” Evan followed, attempting to upset her or wreak whatever havoc Amabel had conspired.

She pretended with her fist that an arrow had pierced her heart and whined, “Ow, Mr. Rosier! You wound me!”

”And you’re ugly!” He added, but sounded less confident with her pretending.

She doubled over in faux pain. “You wound me! I yield, I yield!”

And he was annoyed with her pretending, because he stomped his foot and sent her a glare.

“Do you really think me ugly, Mr. Rosier?” Elizabeth asked, eyebrows knitting together and lips pouting in offense. He hesitated, and shuffled his feet, but murmured, “Yes…” reluctantly.

Elizabeth suddenly and dramatically composed herself. “Well then I guess you won’t want me to transfigure your nutcracker into something more fun?”

“N-no!” But he clearly was tantalized by the idea.

”How about one that can even crush rocks?”

He paused, and against his better judgement said, “I suppose that’s alright…”

Elizabeth smiled and waved her wand, not even muttering an incantation. If there was one, Elizabeth wouldn’t know it, so instead she sought out that power within herself and thought, ‘Please make this nutcracker strong enough to crush a rock,’ and as she thought on it, ‘but impossible to hurt any living thing’.

It was impossible to tell if anything had actually occurred, but Elizabeth knew it had from the tugging sensation of her heart and the warmth in the hand that held the nutcracker.

She handed him the nutcracker, and he looked up at her suspiciously.

She winked at him. “Go on.” 

He withtook an incriminating rock from his pocket, which he’d surely stolen from outside and which had certainly been the reason the nutcracker broke in the first place, and stuck it in the mouth and pulled the lever at his back. The rock crushed into smaller little pieces that fell out of his mouth and onto the hallway carpet. His eyes lit up and a smile bloomed on his face. They’d reached the nursery. She opened the door and the children inside were giggling and chattering and playing with their new toys, the other nannies monitoring the children and looking up in relief at the sight of Evan and the nanny still in the hall.

He bounded inside, already bragging about his toy’s newest ability. “Mr. Rosier-,” Elizabeth called, and he turned back to her, “Only rats attack nutcrackers.”

He slowly nodded, a hint of guilt behind his eyes, and then she stuck up her fingers curled near her lips like teeth and made a rat expression that caused him to burst into laughter. She curtsied at him, and surprisingly he bowed back.

She smiled and turned to the nanny. ”Thank you so much, Miss Greengrass,” the nanny said, looking utterly grateful. Elizabeth nodded and smiled.

“It was nothing. Careful with that one,” Elizabeth said, nodding at her and watching as she disappeared into the nursery and the doors shut behind her. Elizabeth waved her wand at the pile of crushed rock on the carpet as she passed it, and they disappeared. 

Elizabeth returned to her rooms. The door was ajar. She briskly approached on quiet feet. The sound of rustling from inside. 

Elizabeth swiftly pressed open the door and stepped in, blood spiking.

Amabel whirled around, from where she was hunched over rifling through Elizabeth’s desk drawers. Elizabeth looked around the room, finding her wardrobe was wide open and all the clothes inside in disarray.

Amabel's face went pale, but she did well enough standing tall and acting confident.

Elizabeth crossed her arms and leaned against the threshold, tilting her head to the side. Despite her anger, she could calm herself a bit in the guilty face and fearful eyes of Amabel. ”Do go on.” Elizabeth said.

Amabel clenched her fists at her side. “I know you did it.” She said.

”Oh? Did what?” Elizabeth asked.

”Don’t play the fool.” Amabel spat, voice shaking. Shaking not with fear, but with pure loathing.

“I do like playing the fool, but not now. If you do not tell me why you are rifling through my things like some common thief I will simply have to bring it to the men’s parlor, where they will extract the answer for me.” Her voice sounded a bit like Belphia's at this moment. 

Amabel paled further, if that was possible. Even the rouge on her cheeks did her no favors.

“How utterly non-Gryffindor of you, threatening to tattle,” Amabel spat. Elizabeth raised a brow and stood forward from the wall. Amabel flinched back. Elizabeth’s silence was enough of a threat in itself. ”I know you did it. All I need is proof.” Amabel said.

”Proof of what crime? Blowing out the windows of the bathroom? That was months ago.” Elizabeth reasoned.

”Not of that,” Amabel said quickly, “Of what happened after.” Amabel visibly shivered. 

“What? Detention?”

”The cruciatus curse!” Amabel hissed in frustration, voice lowered and eyes narrowed. In utter hatred. Utter fear.

Elizabeth balked, and stepped back in shock. Amabel’s eyes roved over her expression, one of confusion and surprise and disgust. She must have come to the obvious conclusion herself. ”It wasn’t you…”

Elizabeth shook her head, eyes furrowed and expression growing graver and graver by the second, “Of course it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t-… I would never use an unforgivable curse.”

Amabel stepped back, and seemingly unable to stand she sat on the desk chair behind her.

”You were… Someone did that to you?” Elizabeth asked, sympathy now laced in her tone.

“It’s none of your business,” Amabel said quickly, realizing the company she was with and the information she revealed.

”If someone-,” Elizabeth started, trying to reason, but Amabel briskly stood and began marching toward her, and then past her. Elizabeth grabbed her arm. “You have to tell someone. A professor-”

”Stay out of it.” Amabel said firmly, tearing her arm away and then walking very quickly down the hall and away from Elizabeth’s gaze that followed her retreating form.

Elizabeth let out a shaky breath and closed the door, leaning against it. Proof? What proof could Amabel have found here? Elizabeth’s eyes trailed to her bed, where within her pillowcase her diary was hidden. It was spelled of course, and Amabel couldn’t possibly have gotten into it. They bed was still primly made, so it was obvious Amabel hadn’t even gotten the chance. But still…. If she had, and if she'd somehow miraculously gotten into it, Amabel would know everything. Details of her family, of her world. Her time in St. Mungo’s, her friendship with Dumbledore, the strenuous strategies on how to deal with Tom.

And there was the answer that had immediately came to Elizabeth’s mind the moment Amabel had accidently revealed the truth. The only person at Hogwarts who would ever dare use an unforgivable against another student, who would dare use an unforgivable at Hogwarts at all.

But why would Tom do that to Amabel? Amabel was a slytherin. She was pureblooded. She was one of his own, on his side. Surely he didn’t use it against his followers…

Elizabeth's stomach plummeted. And why would he conceal it from Amabel? She clearly didn’t know who the culprit was. He had to have somehow altered her memories. Why would he go through the trouble?

Elizabeth could storm around the manor and find her answers. She could force the truth from him. Make him confess his sins. But then, this wasn’t Hogwarts and these weren’t regular people. They all knew he was the Heir of Slytherin. They all knew. Which must mean they knew he had been the one to kill poor Myrtle Warren, and gotten away with it. They had been compliant in that murder. They knew the power he held, the things he was capable of. Elizabeth, and possibly the children and the staff, were the only ones kept in the dark. And what would they even do if they found out what Tom had done to her? Would they do anything at all?

That thought was almost as horrifying at this cruel discovery. Not only were Tom’s methods soulless and evil, but they even extended to the most loyal to him. He was protected by them. They harboured no favoritism, no limit, even for their own kin, for their own selves. And these people, they would continue to protect him. Would they serve and worship him, despite it? Because of it?

Did Amabel suspect it was him? Would she ever suspect that the very person who had tortured her and warped her mind was the one who she carried affection for? Whose attention she coveted and respect he commanded?

Would that knowledge change her mind about him? Enough for her to let go of those affections and admirations? Or would Amabel simply accept it? Would she love him despite it? Because of it?

Elizabeth’s mind whirled and whirled and she sat down on her bed, sucked into her thoughts and all the possible outcomes of where this could lead, what changes this could bring.

And like the game of chess, Elizabeth would have to make a move. Tom played aggressively. He a sacrificed pawns, utilized his queen, pressed and pressed and pressed and did not care for the bloodshed unless it threatened his king.

She wouldn’t bring the game it to him, she concluded. She couldn’t let him do this. She would say nothing, do nothing. She would move in silence as he has. And Amabel Rosier was not her player. She was Tom’s pawn.

Despite the sympathy Elizabeth had for the girl, that was Amabel’s battle to fight if she so chose.

Elizabeth glanced toward the disarray, waved her hand and it was all put back into order. And then her gaze turned to the pillow, and the secrets that lay within the folds of fabric.

She took out the diary, and transfigured the exterior for good measure. Something nobody in this house would second glance at, not even Tom. The Tales of the Beetle and the Bard. A wizards children’s book. Nothing Tom would recognize and nothing a pureblood would glance twice at. She reinforced the protection spells, made it so that whoever gazed at it would naturally overlook it. And then she placed it within her bookshelf, perfectly inconspicuous and hidden in plain sight.

While at Hogwarts, Elizabeth had wished she had the Marauder's Map countless times.

How useful it would have been to be able to see a more accurate map of the castle, with all it’s hidden passageways, and to be able to keep track of who exactly was where. But now, she wished she had a similar map for Malfoy manor. It was more dangerous to go around alone, given how many people there were and how small the manor was compared to the castle. Closer, more intimate quarters with her enemies. Absolutely no hint about where the deadliest enemy of them all lay in waiting, ready to strike.

With no duties to attend to and only the time for dinner, she decided that holing up in her room for the next two hours was better than putting herself at risk of running into anyone unsavory. She took her time picking out her accessories and laying out her robes and even running a bath.

Elizabeth wondered when they had installed running water in the house, given that they still didn’t even have electric lights throughout the manor. The mismatched progression of technology here was mind-boggling. It was like they were partially stuck in different eras of time— strange mixtures of Medieval times, the Renaissance period, and small pickings from the Early Modern era and even the 20th century progressions. There were hints that things were kissed by the touch of war in the wizarding world, but here in Malfoy Manor they did not care for propaganda or advancements in technology that muggles have made in the past decades. But when did they get running water? And was it magical in any way, or strictly technological? Did wizarding kind invent advanced systems of piping before muggles had even begun to approach that frontier?

Her questions were endless. Mostly questions she would ask Dumbledore, her closest confidant. And she pacified herself by the promise of looking for a book on muggle and wizarding histories sometime soon. She certainly wouldn’t find anything on muggles in this house, lest it be in her own room from her personal collection. Perhaps she could even send a post to Dumbledore and ask if he had any recommendations? Yes, that would be nice. She had yet to post to him with the news that she had arrived alright, which was unlike her.

So after her bath, scrubbing and washing with elixirs that smelled of vanilla, and brushing through her long hair until her arms were sore and screaming, she began to write.

’Dear Albus,’ She started, having begun addressing him by his first name when outside of Hogwarts or in private. It felt much more fitting, given how their friendship blossomed so boisterously.

’I would like to deeply apologize for my lack of post these last days. Since my arrival at Malfoy Manor, there has been a never ending procession of preparations for my aunt’s multi-day ball. Just this morning we spent hours greeting and giving tours to all the guests who will be staying with us these next five days. You shall never guess who is included in the contents of this guest list. The very person I despise most in the world. He- who I shall not name lest the words stench this letter in my loathing- is even posted in the very room adjacent to my own. I wish you to give me some advice on handling those with horrible dispositions and who are more than unpleasant company. Would it not repel against my very nature to attempt and foster the friendship with him that you have time and time again recommended I adopt?

Your sage advice on trying to defeat love with hate is bothersome, however true. I do sometimes fear that you see him as a feral dog to be tamed. In truth, I see his character more as a wolf. It would take decades of breeding and manipulation to weed out the cruelty in that boy, and would be impossible to do in the duration of his lifetime. My mind returns to our conversation in the hospital wing. The unspoken words that I’m sure we both had thoughts of. That the attack of which Aldric and I suffered was purposeful, and strategic,’ she wrote. She had to ask his advice on Tom, but in order to do so she must emphasize the danger she was truly in. Surely Dumbledore would understand. He’d already suspected Tom as the culprit in Myrtle Warren’s death. And she had no doubt he suspected Tom to be the perpetrator behind her own and Aldric's attacks. 

If only Elizabeth hadn’t stayed silent before. She thought she was protecting herself. She thought mostly that she was protecting Aldric and her friends from Tom by not telling Dumbledore the truth. But she didn’t have to tell him the truth, not fully. She could voice her suspicions about Tom being the culprit— suspicions Dumbledore surely agreed with. And with the gravity of these suspicions could come a more urgent plan of protection against the danger that she was now in.

Elizabeth continued writing, ‘If my attacker were to be in this very manor, what should I do Professor? What would you do?

I’m eager to hear your response.

Yours truly, Aliena

P.S. Do you have any recommendations for books about the integration of muggle technology in wizarding society throughout the ages?’

Elizabeth stared at the letter, read it and then re-read it. She watched the ink dry. She folded it up carefully and placed a wax seal over it, and then wrote his address and opened her window. A gust of cold blew open the french casement window and clattered them against the side of the wall as the white curtains billowed about. Elizabeth shivered and wrapped the bath robe she was wearing closer around herself and whistled out into the grey winter sky. It was getting darker and darker by the moment— the sun must be setting somewhere behind the thick layer of overcast.

A gorgeous white and light brown barn owl soared from the distant manor’s tiny private owlery, swooped once around the room with a caw, and then gracefully floated down onto the intricately-carved wooden owl perch that stood in the corner of the room next to the vanity.

Elizabeth curled up the letter into the owl’s letter holder that was wrapped around it’s ankle, and then securely shut it. “Take this to Albus,” she said, and the owl would know where to go since she so often exchanged letters with Dumbledore that all the Malfoy’s owls were very familiar with him. The owl squaked and rose back up and out the window with two great flaps of it’s wings.

Elizabeth closed the window and then shut the curtain, leaving the room only cast in light from the bathing chamber’s window, the fireplace, and the many candles lit around her room.

Distantly, she could hear the hum of conversation throughout her wing. Her wing was the guest wing, of course, and each room seemed much noisier now with it's many occupants. It felt strangely nice, to hear nearby noise and voices. If only it weren’t for the heavy presence of the room next door to her.

Elizabeth put scented oils and lotions on her skin, and got dressed methodically in the outfit Belphia had specifically planned for her— she had planned out all of Elizabeth’s many outfits for the next five days. Each one was brand new and freshly tailored, laundered, starched and ironed to perfection. There were multiple outfit changes planned for throughout the days-- each new activity and time of day requiring a differing set of robes. 

She was not permitted to do any sort of makeup, as per usual, but she could compensate for her hair and jewelry. She kept the jewelry classic and simple. And utilized one of the magical girls’ magazines for cosmetic spellwork for her hair, which she was generously gifted to her by Saoirse.

Young girls before their debuts were meant to wear their hair half down, and those who had debuted were allowed to wear their hair up. In this sense, Elizabeth was somewhere in between. She was permitted to attend one of the balls but not all, and she was certainly of age to be out in society. So she followed a hairstyle that was extremely complicated and difficult even using spellwork. She interlaced it all with diamonds and pearls and white ribbons, which complimented her jewelry.

The fashions, Elizabeth noticed, differed among the nobility especially depending on the ages. Younger women adopted more recent garb for the times, leaning into old hollywood glamour styles from the 1930’s and even the modern 1940’s style shorter dress. Yet, the older women wore things that echoed the Gilded age and sometimes even the Victorian ages fashions, still far behind the times.

Elizabeth’s gowns were just that— but different. Like everything Belphia, they were extremely witty and tasteful, and distinctly one of a kind. They carried all the elegance and propriety of older fashions, but incorporated less frills and simpler designs and colors that bordered on modern. The robes themselves were all the same for dinner parties— thin chiffon or tulle capes that tied around the neck or at the shoulders that served merely as accessories for the dresses themselves. 

Elizabeth laughed at the sight of tonight’s dinner gown and robe. It was an elegant silk draping skirt and a beautifully embroidered corset that glittered from the hand-sewn beading and embellishments. Attached to the back of the sleeves that blanketed over her shoulders, the cape was pinned and draped down— embroidered in beautiful stars that paired well with the glittering bodice. The heels and the evening gloves were silk too.

And worst of all, everything was a shimmering gorgeous white. When she was dressed, with the help of magic to lace herself tightly into the outfit, she looked at herself in the mirror.

She looked positively bridal. That was most certainly the intention. Elizabeth had underestimated Belphia’s designs for marriage. Clearly these next days and ball was more than just a celebration, display of power, or taste in riches. It was also a “pre-debut” as Belphia had put it in the carriage. Of course, she had expected something like this, but not something so overt and extravagant. In how many other forms and strategies did Belphia plan on saying, ‘Aliena is the perfect wife for your son’ to all her guests and friends?

Elizabeth sighed and despite her embarrassment didn’t remove the dress. She was resigned to this just as she was resigned to everything else about the Malfoys. She was just here temporarily after all. In how many ways must she remind herself that this was not permanent? She would be leaving soon, back to her family. And never again would she have the chance to wear such expensive and beautiful things. And despite the Malfoy’s conceptions, Elizabeth would never marry— not in this world. So despite the inward disgust she felt twisting in her stomach, she turned in the mirror and smiled and pretended to bow to a gentleman. 

She could play dress up: in this outfit, with this society, in this world of magic, and in this beautiful body. This past year has been one big game of dress up. A whole year she had been in this world, with nothing to show for it. But she might as well enjoy it before she slipped out of these clothes and locked them away in a wardrobe for good. Never to be seen or heard or felt again.

“Aliena,” Elizabeth whispered into the mirror. “Aliena” She repeated.

She frowned, she sighed. She turned away because she could no longer bear to look at the reflection. Out of self-loathing. Out of disgust. Who was she to wish to stay here and leave her family behind, when they surely must be mourning her dearly? Who was she to enjoy her time here while they had no idea if she was even alive?

Who was she? Who was she?

“Elizabeth,” She whispered to herself, like a prayer. Like a thought that slipped out. She hadn’t spoken her own name in so many months, she couldn’t even remember how it felt on her lips. “Elizabeth. Elizabeth Stewart. My name is Elizabeth Stewart.”

Chapter Text

Elizabeth left her bedroom room before any other guests would have denied to leave. Elizabeth knew this.

The family was to greet the guests at the bottom of the steps and then enter the dining hall as a group, but the staggered fashion in which it would occur was entirely up to the families discretion of what was late and what was on time.

Elizabeth found she was the first to descend the stairs, even before Brutus or Belphia. Walking through the hallway was strange, listening to the noises from each room as families and couples readied themselves. The nursery in particular was quite noisy, as the children were already being served their dinner inside and would afterward go to sleep far sooner than the adults or older children would. 

Elizabeth wondered if any of the parents had even visited their children at all before getting ready for dinner. Most likely not-- the childrens schedules completely diverted from the adults and older children's at all times. Why would a mother or father miss their young? When drinks, smoke, gossip, and posturing was so much more tantalizing for them.

She descended the stairs to find the bottom floor empty. It was a strange quiet only found in the emptiness of a house party. Normally in small corner or empty garden, but this was the grand staircase and entry hall where Elizabeth found solace. And it was gorgeously decorated. The candlelight made it even more beautiful than it was in the daytime. All the little glittering candles on the trees or on the candelabras or crystal chandelier made it look like a scene from a dream.

Elizabeth waited for a long few minutes. It could have been twenty or thirty— it did not matter. Time was inconsequential in the face of marvelling at the beauty of the carefully delicate ornaments.

A noise from the landing, and Elizabeth looked up. Abraxas stood over the railing, looking down at her. He wore a similarly white suit with a long waist coat and white billowing cloak. He was dressed to the nines, and his hair slicked back in the usual fashion he wore it. Outside of when it got ruffled during quidditch, or breakfast, or after riding his horse.

Abraxas sucked in a breath at the sight of her looking up at him from the ground floor, and her eyebrows quirked together as a response.

”Nervous?” She asked in confusion. He couldn’t possibly be nervous, he’d surely done this a million times.

He seemed to catch himself and said, “Of course not,” before descending the steps as any nobleman would— confidently slow.

He finally reached the bottom and she beckoned him to the tree she stood at. This one was decorated with little fairy ornaments posed in a permanent ballet dance.

“Look how pretty,” she commented.

He scoffed, taking a half look at the tree before stepping away. ”That’s nothing, just basic decor. My mother has greater spectacles planned.”

And Aliena didn’t doubt that. Aliena? Since when had she referred to herself as Aliena? Elizabeth, she reminded herself. I’m Elizabeth Stewart.

Another noise at the top of the landing, and Elizabeth turned up with a smile. It was surly Belphia and Brutus. But it wasn’t just Belphia and Brutus.

Tom stood in front of them, looking down with a small smile. Brutus had a hand on his shoulder, in a similar fashion he would do to Abraxas. Brutus and Belphia also wore outfits of white. And worse so, Tom wore an all-black cloak with white suit underneath. He looked… Well he looked like a groom. An unintended happenstance-- Belphia certainly hadn't picked his clothes for him. 

Elizabeth’s breath caught, and she instinctively stepped closer to Abraxas. Abraxas glanced down at her, and she up at him as the trio descended the steps.

“Why is he here so early?” Elizabeth whispered quietly through her teeth.

Abraxas quirked an eyebrow at her and whispered back, “He’s part of the family procession.”

”Family procession.” Elizabeth bit back, trying to keep her voice as low as possible.

”He is our honored guest,” Abraxas said back, and stepped away to greet Tom at the base of the steps. Aliena- no, Elizabeth held back.

She shuffled, turning back to the tree and pretending ignoring Tom wasn’t totally improper.

”Aliena! My darling, you did so well today,” Belphia said, thankfully not noticing her impropriety.

”Did I?” She asked, turning to her aunt. She looked gorgeous in her white gown, embroidered with powder blue flower designs, and her wavy chiffon cape. Her hair was styled up in a bun of beautiful curls, which she never wore before. The gown only brought out her incredible blue eyes more. She looked like a queen, or a duchess. So breathtakingly gorgeous— the subject of envy and admiration in equal measure.

”You did,” Brutus joined in at her side, looking ever the pair to his wife. His tunic matched her powder blue embroidery. In truth they could have been siblings if it weren’t for their differing in facial structures. Their coloring was all the same, and their matching ensemble only emphasised it. A perfectly matched duo. Like Ken and Barbie, except more severe and extravagant. 

“The servants and house elves told us of your workings,” Belphia started, and Brutus joined in. ”Yes, I saw the way you brought Mr. Nott’s blend to the men’s parlour. And even the stable boys noted your astuteness.”

”And the nannies too! They told us how you took care of that little Rosier boy. I daresay, hosting is natural to you. I couldn’t be more proud of my protege.” Aunt Belphia said, taking Elizabeth’s hand in hers and squeezing it. Their expressions poured out pride and gratefulness. Elizabeth had wanted that. She’d conspired for it in her governing around the manor in her free time. This was what she wanted, and the pleasure and happiness of their thanks and approval and respect was everything Elizabeth could have imagined. Her stomach flipped at the praise, and she couldn’t help her own grin that bloomed on her face. She squeezed Belphia’s hand back.

“Thank you,” She said giddily, trying to act more demure than she felt.

”Perhaps you should take her along as an apprentice during this festival, Mrs. Malfoy. She’d learn much from your instruction.” Tom’s voice entered the fray, and Brutus and Belphia stepped aside and he stood at the center of them. Elizabeth let go of Belphia’s hand, standing more straight and stifling the disgust and fear this entry brought.

Neither Brutus nor Belphia seemed to notice Elizabeth’s reaction, and Belphia fervently agreed with him, “Yes, Tom! She’s a natural. Only a bit of experience and she’d be the perfect mistress of a great and noble house in no time.” And this was an average complement of Belphia, but it brought about a hint of resentment in Elizabeth when Tom was involved.

But he was speaking to her aunt and uncle, and not to Elizabeth when he said, “A woman in her element, well— is that not a force to behold?”

They laughed and voiced their agreements. Tom met Elizabeth’s eyes. God, this joke, this life— it was strenuous. It was easy to play the perfect niece, the submissive fool and future debutant. But somehow when Tom was involved he brought an a stain of disgust. As if being up on stage and seeing a familiar face in the crowd-- turning the performance sour and embarrassing. 

It was noble what she was doing, no? She was everything they wanted her to be. So why did Tom’s presence make it seem so juvenile? So… female?

There was nothing wrong with being a female. But being a girl, a debutant, a wife-- it never felt so pathetic before.

Tom held out his hand between Belphia and Brutus and took Elizabeth’s. He leaned down and kissed it slowly, and as he rose back up his eyes flicked back up to meet hers. She brought her hand back into her other one and clasped them gently. Abraxas sidled up to her side, and she felt great relief in his presence near her. Abraxas was what she needed— the Snape to her Dumbledore. An insider. A friend. Oh, could Abraxas just be her friend in this pit of vipers?

Tom spoke again, ”I look forward to this winter escape. Your manor is such a contrast to the loneliness of Hogwarts.”

“Yes, we’re very,” Belphia glanced at Elizabeth and then back to Tom, “, grateful you chose to remain her for these weeks.”

These weeks? “But it’s only five days, Aunt Belphia,” Elizabeth said, with a short laugh to try and alleviate any awkwardness at her aunt’s mistake.

“Oh, no Aliena. We have the privilege of hosting Tom for the entirety of the winter holidays.” Brutus responded. And he sounded proud at the thought. Lofty. Exclusive. Excited, even.

Elizabeth let the pain and terror sink in within her, but kept her face sereine and happy. Only a hint of strain showed when she met Tom’s eyes again and said, “Oh?”

Tom smiled in delight. “Only the best of hosts could possibly be considered. I had my time with the Blacks,” he said, and glanced at Belphia, who gave him a private look, “And decided my time would better be shared among those more… tasteful.”

And wasn’t tasteful the best word to use? And wasn’t Tom the best at using his words? Because Belphia preened and Brutus nodded in subtle private agreement.
Tom was playing them all. He was playing the houses of the most exclusivity. He was the chip they fought over, and he knew it, and used it to his advantage. And Aliena didn’t miss the way he’d chosen the Malfoys.

The reason.

The reason.

Aliena. Elizabeth. Whoever she was now, in this moment. Whoever she was, met his eyes and leveled her gaze and there was an understanding that passed.

You move, I move. A rook to the knight. A pawn to the pawn, facing each other in perpetual stillness. Tom staying for the five-day winter festival. Tom staying for the entire holiday. 

It was her turn to move.

Distant voices from the upper hall grew closer and closer.

”A shame, then,” Aliena said. Yes, Aliena did speak. “that affections are so fickle.” She met Belphia’s eyes with a point. The subtleness of body language. A fluency of the eyes. A fluency of words unspoken. A fluency she learned and harbored. And Belphia spoke back with no words. An understanding and a hidden question and suspicion. She glanced back to Tom briefly, but the look held nothing more than base suspicion and more than that it held determination. Determination to prove herself worthy, which was worse.

The voices breached the landing, and the family entering found themselves exposed and composed. Belphia and Brutus turned and stepped forward, holding hands to leave behind Tom as they stepped forward. And now it was just Tom and Aliena with Abraxas at her side as a footnote of the pages that belonged to Aliena and Tom.

Elizabeth and Tom.

Elizabeth Stewart. 

Tom looked at her. A bit of red rimmed in the edges of those brown irises, lethal and intelligent and always worse than before. Elizabeth looked into his, silver and grey and sparkling in the candlelight.

They were beautiful. They were lethal. The two of them. The two of them together. Gazing. Assessing. Everything.

Abraxas was her savior more than ever. A savior born before he knew his purpose. A knight, perhaps, on her board. Perhaps on Tom's. It was yet to be decided. But he linked his arm through her’s and stepped forward so that Tom was forced to step to Aliena's other side. They looked up to watch the entry and greet with gentle smiles and warm welcomes.

And Tom in his impropriety, in a blatant display of ignoring it, linked his arm on her other side. Elizabeth instinctively held Abraxas closer, who responded without looking at her but only by squeezing her in response ever-so-subtly. Still, Tom was there. His warmth at her side. His arm in her’s.

And they presented a family. A host. And Tom was there, a host joined in arms.

The dinner commenced.

The main dining room was the place for these such occasions. The two largest drawing rooms had tables too, but those were prepared for the larger banquet on Christmas day, when these rooms and halls would be crowded with over one hundred guests. The main dining room had two long mahogany tables plated with fine china, crystal glassware, silver utensils, candles, and centerpieces of red roses white lilies and evergreen branches.

The room was decorated as other rooms were, all garlands and candles and ornaments. Even more beautiful were the frescoes on the walls and ceiling, the crystal chandeliers, and the gold-gilded wood panelling on the walls.

Elizabeth, Abraxas, Tom, Brutus, and Belphia entered last, following the crowd of guests. A servant stood behind each chair, holding them out before each guest and ready to press them in at their seating. Each guest seemed to have their places, and knew them well.

Elizabeth clung to Abraxas, letting him lead her to the front of the main table. Brutus sat at the end, and Belphia at the other. Abraxas looked with his eyes to Elizabeth’s seat-- on the other side of Brutus'. She took notice of his silent instruction and walked there with the grace as if she’d known all along. To her utter horror, Tom stuck by her side. Even worse so, the only empty seat left that was the one directly next to her own. Tom's.

If things couldn’t get more dramatic, Tom waved the servant behind Elizabeth’s seat away and stood behind it, ready to push it in for her. Like a servant.

The husbands, taking notice of such a grand gesture made embarrassing shows of doing the same for their wives, as if they were annoyed they hadn’t thought of doing such a gentlemanly thing first. The wives chittered with giggles in shock of their husbands "kindness". Elizabeth's stomach clenched and she held her chin high-- meeting Abraxas' eyes directly across from her to Brutus' other side. She could only imagine Tom's smug smirk behind her. 

Brutus sat, and then everyone did. Tom pushed her seat forward for her, and then his servant did the same for him.

The cups filled immediately with wine or champagne of each guests preference. Brutus stood again, and everyone looked to him. ”A toast,” he said, holding up his glass. The company followed. “To family,” he said, looking at his wife and then Abraxas and then Aliena. Elizabeth. ”To friends,” he glanced at the faces around both tables,

“May our cauldrons always bubble

May our spells never miss,

May we find joy in each charm

And warmth in each kiss.

Here's to nights full of starlight

and mornings aglow,

To magic,

To blood,

To ties deep,

and powers low,

For now and always,

May our words reach their mark,

Never falter, never stumble

Never tear us apart!”

The guests cheered, and this must have been a traditional cheer, because everyone joined in on the last line with the words, “Never tear us apart!”

Everyone clinked their glasses together softly, and Brutus leaned his own forward to clink Abraxas and Elizabeth’s before they drank deeply from the cups. Elizabeth laughed after, meeting Abraxas’ mischievous look when she found he’d finished his entire cup. As soon as he pressed it down, it refilled itself.

Brutus clapped his hands together and their plates filled with the first course— a soup.

The teachings about etiquette were very useful during the course of the dinner. She ate well, politely, and with all the manners of anyone present. She knew which utensil to use, when to speak, and when not to.

The conversation amongst dinner was thankfully all politics. Normally she hated politics at dinner, but this talk sucked all the men and boys away from her so well that she easily melted into the decorations without even trying.

Only Tom seemed to notice her at all, and any attempt to bring her into the conversation resulted in the men’s chuckling and ignoring. Aliena gave him satisfied gazes. He eventually seemed to give up his attempt in exchange for conversation with only Aliena, which seemed to be more important than his development of camaraderie with the upperclass men of society.

”You do not believe in this possible ‘new era’, don’t you?” He asked her. He asked it quieter. Because any attempt at dragging her into the conversation as a whole resulted in her easily feminine responses to divert the conversation away.

Even among such conversations, Elizabeth met the eyes of Amabel. She was a table away and could not hear but was watching closely. Her meal was half eaten, and she was taking a long drag from her glass with her eyes trained on them. Her fiance, Rodrick Lestrange, sat by her side as he talked her ear off without her listening.

“To what do you refer?” She asked Tom, ever averse to such subjects.

“You know to which I refer,” he stated simply. And she did, because they’d been talking about it all evening. A new idea about muggle-borns inclusivity into the ministry, into the Wizengamot. Such things were a threat to all those present. And these threats held a hint of sympathy with the very regime Grindelwald represented. Thin veils and poorly concealed biases. Nobody outwardly sided with Grindelwald, but Elizabeth suspected some of them must in secret.

Any political conversations with Brutus and Belphia in private had resulted in either dismissal or fervent hate-filled rants about how Grindelwald must be brought to his knees and deserved death. So at least, she knew where the Malfoy's sentiments lay. She never missed how personal their passions were.
Belphia had lost a sister to Grindelwald. And unknowingly a brother-in-law, and a niece. And Aliena was the only precious gem they had made out with. Aliena, who had spent all that time at St. Mungo's, who had narrowly escaped death. 

Belphia and Brutus' politics were the only ones she cared for at all. So all of this was null. Especially Tom Marvolo Riddle's politics. 

“What do you want me to say, Tom? That I want muggleborns in the Wizengamot?” She scoffed at the absurdity. Or at least, the absurdity of that possibility in this time. In truth, she couldn’t care less. Wizard politics meant to nothing for her or her future. If muggleborns weren’t in the Wizengamot, who cares? If they were, how could it possibly be a threat to purebloods all-controlling power? Even if she did have an opinion, it wouldn't matter in the long run. 

Harry would end it all. Hermione Granger would become the Minister for Magic. And in the end, things would be right in this world. 
She wanted to laugh at the thought. What would all these people say if she told them that in seventy-something years a muggleborn witch would be the Minister for Magic?

”So you do not.” He concluded.

”Muggleborns may just be as powerful as we,” Aliena commented noncommittally, holding her glass aloft with a pointed look and taking a sip. She was taught not to discuss unagreeable politics at all.

Tom scoffed.

Aliena chuckled into her glass.

”So you do,” Tom reasoned back in confusion.

”My opinions are that of any woman.”

”A good wife knows well and can voice politics with educated opinion.” Tom said.

”My opinions are that of any woman,” Aliena reiterated, and lifted her glass to her lips as she finished, “Heard and not listened to.”

Tom took this in, taking a long sip of his wine. Aliena sent a look to Abraxas, who was looking between them with new eyes. His lips pursed. Brutus was talking loudly over them to the men at the table, and the women sat back and conversed to the sides. Abraxas seemed to take notice of this as if for the first time in his life. The men speaking, and women whispering so as not to be a disturbance. 

And then,

“Aliena! Play some music for us!” Belphia demanded. She was reasonably drunk, but then so was everybody else. And dessert was appearing on the table at the same time. So Aliena didn’t need to enjoy dessert, she needed only to perform.

But then, she had always been performing. From beginning to end, she’d been performing. Perfect niece, perfect debutant, perfect hostess, and a perfect and beautiful girl in a white dress ready for a wedding.

”Yes, show our guests your talents,” Brutus agreed, nodding and pulling out a small cigarette to smoke with the creme brulee, the affogato, and finally the great custard tart brought in by servants in a grotesquely immaculate platter. All their glasses emptied and instead decanters of rieslings and ports stood on the tables ready for the guests to pair with whatever desserts of their choosing were fit.

Elizabeth nodded and stood, placing her empty glass on the table and moving to the well-placed grand piano decorated in gold and silver and swirling carvings. She didn't even carry with her a hint of dismay at missing the desserts-- she'd already tried them all earlier that day in the kitchens.

And she hadn’t missed that piano upon her entry. She knew that the performances required of her would inevitably extend to more than just the one night of the Christmas Day ball. 

“Shall I sing, or simply play?” She questioned. The crowd murmured over their food and wine, but Brutus’ voice carried. ”Just play, my little darling.” And everybody looked to her for a performance in their murmerings. So it couldn’t be a simple song. And so she would perform, as she always had done.

Seen and not heard. But she could make them hear. 

The song started slow, and everybody cut into the dessert for a moment, until the song cut into harshness and everybody paused to watch. The guests settled, listening, slowly grabbing their desserts and sipping their wines as they watched. Aliena- no, Elizabeth moved with the music she played, her body swaying and ebbing and flowing as her hands cleaved the keys with precision and art.

And even as the song ebbed to softness, the guests held onto the notes. Nobody ate. Only drank and watched. Watched the spectacle, the beauty, the fantastical event that were long delicate fingers over ivory.

And finally, when she finished, the crowd clapped respectfully, and even some people stood, and then everybody stood. Brutus and Belphia were the last to stand, and they were the most proud of all.

The desserts were half-finished, but the Nott’s and french Rosiers demanded for some singing, and Belphia looked to Elizabeth in a question. Can you?, Belphia asked with her eyes. 

Elizabeth nodded. They all clapped in enjoyment, and using some magic the tables were arranged around the piano in a v shape in order to watch while eating. She was just a musician, and they were the pretty nobles looking for entertainment and a story. Well… She would give a story.

As the tables were arranged, she summoned her guitar.

The people marveled at it, and settled into their seats to watch with great interest. Elizabeth stood beside the piano, and it began to play. Soon after, she began to strum her guitar.

She sang lyrics about a small child, and his silver spoon, and the falter of a father who was never there. She had to alter the lyrics to fit the wizarding sort of understanding, but that was easy enough. She looked into the eyes of the parents there as she sang, and yet they didn’t understand. Not one of them. They clapped and listened along to the story, like it was great fun. Like it wasn’t at all about them.

Finally, Elizabeth met the eyes of Tom,

“And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me

He'd grown up just like me

My boy was just like me,"

You're like him, Tom. You killed him, but you'll always have his name. And the cat's in the cradle. She reeled her chin forward and finished the chorus, never leaving his eyes. Finally, the song came to a slow close.

Everybody clapped, everybody raved of the interesting newness of it. How unique and different it was, how it was somehow American sounding, and there was no negativity of it. No scorn or judgement. And no thought of the lyrics meaning. 

Elizabeth bowed and thanked them all as they each came up to her. She wore her dress. She was white and silver and beautifully youthful. And she realized, with a terrible and great thought, of the look in the husbands and wives eyes. As their sons came up and spoke. As they thanked her and spoke of Hogwarts and how beautiful her dress was. It was a look of greed.

Yes, greed could be the only word. Not envy. Greed. They wanted Aliena for their own. They wanted a trophy on a gilded shelf. And they pushed their son’s backs forward, recognizing this value. Elizabeth took in the sons, all of which she’d hated and resented and loathed with her entire being in different ways. Different ways, but they all came down to the one. The subject of her loathing for these boys sat back and watched closely.

Then talk of dancing began, and the following protests as Elizabeth began her exit. And Elizabeth's responses:

"Yes, I must go,"

"No, I cannot possibly stay,"

"Mrs. Avery I would love to share a dance with your son, but not until Christmas day, I’m afraid,"

"Yes, I haven’t yet to debut, but surely on Christmas Mr. Rosier could spare me a dance,"

"No, I’m no more averse to Wulfric than anybody else," and she laughed shortly. And all of her responses were beautiful and perfect and she was perfect and beautiful. 

And her hero of the hour, Abraxas, opened his mouth to come to her rescue because the crowd had grown to an overwhelming bombardment. She looked to him with great relief. But it wasn’t his voice that sounded, and suddenly Abraxas froze just before he began to speak.

”I’m afraid it’s time I must escort Miss Greengrass to her rooms,” Tom said.

And at the protests, Tom said gracefully, “As the guest of the Malfoy house I couldn’t possibly presume anything other than a responsible host.” Host. The guest. THE guest?!

Brutus smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. Belphia nodded and gestured for their exit. Elizabeth glanced back at Abraxas, who shuffled in place and was now sucked into conversation by the many friends that crowded around him. She turned back and guitar in hand, used it as a shield preventing Tom from taking her arm. They walked out of the dining room. And as soon as they left, a silence greeted them with twinkling lights and glittering decorations and the hum the chatter grew distant. There was only one word to describe the atmosphere of this moment as they walked. Intimate.

Aliena could vomit into a flowerpot at it.

Tom somehow managed to suavely maneuver the guitar into his hand, passed it to his left, and took her arm in his.

“I’ll never hear the end of this,” Wulfric said to Abraxas.

”My mother is already planning the honeymoon, I can tell.” Justus said loftily, spreading his arms around his back like this was a perfect idea.

”Do you think any of us will hear the end of this?” Marius Avery responded to Mulciber, ignoring Justus.

”She isn’t a horse to be bidded on,” Abraxas said firmly in annoyance.

”Speak for yourself. She’s the finest mare I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Alphard Black responded, and then continued, leaning in, “I protest anything my parents force upon me. But this,” he whistled, “Nobody sane could protest.”

Abraxas attempted to punch his arm, but Alphard avoided it in his quickness. “Got to be quicker! Cousin, cousin,” he mimicked a feminine tone, “I’ll love my dear Alphard till the day I die!”

Abraxas chased him all the way into the ballroom until parents caught sight and sent them scornful looks and they behaved themselves. And yet still, the adults looked on as if, ‘boys will be boys’.

Belphia and Brutus were properly bombarded. The sight of the sons gathering together in a circle of whispering and conspiring only seemed to further the fervency of it.

”You do know you didn’t even have to dress her in white!” One of the women exclaimed to Belphia.

”My nanny already spoke to me of her deftness with Evan. That in itself speaks volumes.”

”My house elf was fed, by her! I couldn’t imagine sympathy toward such creatures to be positive thing, but I digress…,”

“Tell me you haven’t promised her to another!”

And even for Brutus:

”I don’t much care for women-,”

”Or wives,”

“But is she properly educated?”

”How old is she again?”

”She has no ailments from her tragic past, of course?”

”I think Theodosia is jealous of her already.”

”I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of this.”

And all three Malfoys in their own minds agreed on just that: they would never hear the end. And for the rest of the evening Brutus' friends broke in with strange and random questions about Aliena Greengrass' breeding and her house and her education and her manners. No doubt, these were surly shuffled questions by their wives. The only other great comments were that of their sons interest, or the looks their sons had while watching Aliena's performance.

And a great comment seemed to string them all together, one by one and in private from any others. They all consisted of the same name. The same perpetrator.

”That Tom Riddle isn’t interested in her, is he?”

”Now I don’t want to go stepping on Riddle’s toes…,”

”If Tom feels he’s inclined then I wouldn’t even consider-,”

And then finally, “If she hasn’t yet already, I’d like to have my boy in for consideration for her hand.”

By the end of the evening all men with eligible sons all had their inquiries. And by the end Brutus had only concluded one thing which he previously hadn’t even considered.

The boy with no name. The boy with the most important name of all. Did Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin, consider Aliena for a wife? Surely he didn’t…. He was just a boy, and boys never considered such things unless they were in love.

Surely….

Surely not.

But before all of this, back in the hall, there was a silence more terrible than everything in the world. There was a great romanticism in it. Holding arms with the enemy. Viewing the sights of lavishness beyond comprehension, and hating it because of what they were. Elizabeth hated how beautiful the manor was. She hated how small her past Christmas’ seemed in comparison. She hated how much she loved this one more.

And the man on her arm— the boy, she corrected. The boy on her arm was scary and stunning. He was warm, and comforting physically. He was pushy and manipulative. He had attempted to kill her first boyfriend and almost killed her. He had pleaded and shook and saved her life in the fear that she would die. He'd attacked her. He'd saved her desperately. He bombarded her with strength, and somehow the way that he bombarded her with his vulnerability was more potent. More terrible and horrific than any act he’d taken against her.

What did this mean in her grand scheme— this fear of his that she would die? He surely wanted her to die at the right moment. He surely just wanted control, and that was all.

But they were playing chess, as it was. She was never any good at chess. And yet she had skipped a few moves, and again it was her turn.

“You seek to disturb me with your presence.” She commented, a fact.

”I’m simply escorting you to your room.” Tom responded.

”I meant here, at this manor. For weeks,” she drawled.

Tom smiled. His smile. It sometimes seemed to consume her.

“You and I are kindred souls.” He said.

And she hated that, because those were words she shared with Dumbledore-- the only true friend she seemed to have in this world. The only person who understood even a fraction of what she was. ”You don’t have a soul.” She spat. And she was teetering on the truth, which only now she found that she loved to do. Tease and teeter and peck around the truth that she knew. Truths that he didn’t know she knew of.

Aliena. Elizabeth. Who was who, now? Who was who?

”What do you know about my soul?” He asked viciously. They reached the stairs. And yet still, even with nobody present to observe their manners, he turned and held out his hand to help her climb.

She took it and followed. Teeter, retreat. ”Some people are born without souls.”

”Is this the basis on the conception you believe I cannot love?” That question was out of left field, but then Tom always was. His questions were shocking, his comments were halting. And for the first time Aliena understood that Tom could say anything he pleased with her in a manner he could with nobody else in the world. In private and confidence. They shared the Chamber between them. And that gave way to more of Tom's secrets than he'd divulged to anyone else. 

But Tom kept secrets that he didn't know she held in the palm of her hand. 

Pawn forward. Bishop diagonal.
He could threaten, she knew more. 

“Conception is a junior term. I know you cannot love, just as I know you have no soul.” Rook forward.

”You seem to know, know, know. On what grounds do you know, or are they merely guessings in a pathic play?”

Play it was. Marionettes. A puppet show, it must seem to him.

He knew nothing. He knew everything in the world, but when it came to her he knew nothing. Only now did she see the error in her ways. She had attempted to play the part of a nobody, but she had unwittingly made herself exposed by her own knowledge.

“You ask me if I bluff.” She stated. They reached the top of the stairs. But they stopped at the landing, where the downstairs floor lay before them. A nice view of the chandelier and floor below the balustrade. He let go of her arm, so she stood in front of his figure.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted the guitar over the edge of the balustrade. In a threat. He held her guitar hanging over, ready to shatter on the main entrance floor below. Putting a rock in the mouth of a nutcracker. 

“I do not ask.” he said simply. Ready to crack. His hand slipped but caught it just before it fell. She could catch her guitar with her magic. She could repair it with her magic. And yet to let him drop it, let it break, and never repair it to it’s previous state-- that would be the next move. She couldn't reveal her magic to him. That would be truly stupid. So she let Tom hold what he believed to be very precious to her over the edge of life and death.

Aliena could never comprehend what Tom thought or wanted. He wanted her to plea when he knew she wouldn’t. He wanted her to feel pain when she could repair. But where was the extent to his knowledge of her? This was a test to see how far it extended. And even in the face of what he conceived to be a great feat, of breaking into the Chamber of Secrets, she couldn't bring herself to cower. 

Because surely, a guitar could be repaired quickly. Or another bought, even. A guitar was just an object. 

A meow.

Elizabeth’s stomach dropped.

She turned her head, and found Artemis, clinging to the chandelier. She was wrapped up in all the crystals and the center rope that held it in place. Her tail was bottled. Her eyes pleading. She was so still in fear that the chandelier didn't move a modem. 

Aliena turned back to Tom, feigning calm. 

How long had Artemis been there? All of dinner? Had she been meowing for help this entire time? Aliena hadn't even noticed her there, and she felt so stupid. Artemis avoided the burning candles and held on tightly as she could. 

As tightly as she could...

Where did that golden magic end? Where did it begin? Aliena had come into this world and was given life. And along the way, given powers beyond conception. Was death her friend? Her companion? And did that make her life? Did that... Maybe.. Maybe in a way she was a master of death in her own right. No need for the deathly hallows. Maybe she had something more buried beneath her soul. 

”What do you want, Tom?” Aliena asked levelly, trying not to let herself sound panicked or look to Artemis. She maintained his gaze. 

He smiled, as if this was brilliant. 

”I want the truth.” he stated simply.

Aliena noticed this about Tom in the chamber, and she noticed it again now. His mask falling to the floor. And beneath was a twisted smile. A laughter that had echoed in the chamber. A joy in terror. That expression that had been more beautiful than anything she'd ever seen. 

She knew the truth. She could give the truth.

She knew the truth. She would give the truth.

Fuck all of this. Fuck Tom and his smile. He threatened her cat, and this was too far. 

“You threaten my music. You threaten my cat. Do you think this yields fear?” she asked.

Tom tilted his head to the side. With a movement of his hand the guitar dropped. Aliena caught it, within herself. It hovered above the floor and then drifted down to rest. She didn't even have to glance, or speak, or hold out her hand. Tom looked down in shock at the perfectly intact guitar that now lay on the floor below. He turned back to her, something of rage behind his eyes.

Perhaps he'd meant to shock her. It hadn't worked. 

”I do not just threaten trivial things.” He leveled, and from the look in his eyes, there was something more. And his wand was in his hand now. 

A ballroom, beginning to erupt with music. Laughter and voices within. It was so loud. This noise must mean nothing. 

“What do you know about my soul?” He asked again. A flash of red with the flick of his wand. The cat screamed suddenly, hissing and contorting against the fixture. Artemis’ tail got caught in the fire from one of the candles, and erupted in a sudden blaze of light. Elizabeth’s stomach dropped and she immediately called on the power, ‘Extinguish’ she thought. And the fire had stopped, but Artemis still screamed. Just as Tom still held his wand aloft.

‘Stop. Shield. Protect. Save.’ And Artemis’ screams stopped, and she clung again to the chandelier, fur out of place and looking fierce and brave.

Tom laughed, finally breaking the spell. Boisterous. And it grew, his laughing. Just as it had in the chamber. ”Don’t you know blocking unforgivables is impossible? There is no such magic!”

So he was using cruciatus, just as he’d done to Amabel. On her cat. On Artemis.

The bubbling fire within her sparked and flamed to life. Anger. Hatred. Wrath.

Aliena held out her hand and Artemis hovered in the air and drifted forward until she met her awaiting grasp. She pet Artemis once, all the way down to her tail. And as soon as Aliena's hand passed over it, all the hair that had burnt off her tail immediately grew back. Aliena set her on the ground and Artemis scurried off in the direction of her room. Aliena stood again, leveling his eyes as his laughter quieted to a sickening silence. He looked at her, horrified.

”Blocking an unforgivable isn’t impossible,” she said. But you would not know that. Not yet.

“What do you know about my soul?” He asked again. The guitar on the ground floor splintered and shattered into a million pieces, because he made it so. Just as soon as it did, with half a thought, it reformed itself back into perfect condition, because she made it so.

A scream from the ballroom. Her stomach dropped again. Mutters of words, ‘It’s fine’ ‘Just dropped her glass!’

A threat. Elizabeth knew too much to take it lightly.

He looked at her. She looked at him. Her aunt was in that room. Her cousin, her uncle. And all of Tom’s friends, all of his superiors. And she could see that none of that mattered to him.

Nothing really mattered to someone who had nothing to lose. Tom had made sure he'd have nothing to lose, from the start. And Elizabeth had everything to lose. 

She could tell him everything in the world. She could bring his horcruxes in front of his face now and reveal it all. She could steal them away into the night and find a way to kill him.

All these things she could do.

She wanted to reveal her cards. She wanted to lay them out on the table and end him. But she was playing chess, not cards. She was not here to threaten him or to make him fear her the way he attempted. And the time would come to kill him, if she planned it well enough.

She was supposed to find something to bring common ground. She wanted to see her friends in Hogwarts again. She didn't want to fight with Tom, because there was more at stake. Things more important than pride or power. Something Tom couldn't comprehend. 

“I know you hurt Aldric, possibly permanently. I know you almost killed me,” she spoke slowly. He shied back at this, as if it disgusted him. “I suspect you tortured Amabel. I suspect you probably torture your friends, including my cousin. More than these things, I see the apathy in your eyes. How could the question of your lack of soul even be contemplated?” Tom took this information in for a long moment as they stared at each other. Finally, he lifted his wand. She prepared for the worst. She knew he couldn't kill her. But if he tried, it would break into chaos. She would have to kill him if he tried, and then all resources of Hogwarts or the Malfoys could be lost in her mission to return home.

But he simply waved it and called an accico and the guitar flew back up into his awaiting hand.

He stepped forward, but she didn’t take his arm. And they walked as he carried her guitar. 

It was plagued by silence. She realized she wasn’t used to silence in his presence, because he so much liked to hear himself speak.

They finally reached her rooms, and rather than drop her off at the door like a gentleman would, he opened the door and entered without a care in the world.

He overlooked her room, taking in the white and blue colorings, the furnishings, the tapestry. He set the guitar in the case, and instead of leaving he walked around the room inspecting everything in sight.

He opened the wardrobe and pulled out the sets of robes ready to be worn, gazing at each one with great interest. He closed it. He moved to the tapestry, gazing at the scene, and then pulling it aside to see the opening that lead down to the stone staircase.

He looked back to her with a raised brow. She shrugged. He smiled and shook his head as he dropped it and moved on.

Her desk and vanity. He sat in the chair. The parchment and ink and wax and flowers. He leaned forward and smelled them. He even sprayed her perfume in the air and smelled that too. He looked a bit silly. Then, her window and curtains.

He opened both, peeked his head out into the flurry of snow, visibly leaning out and taking note of the stairs near the front of the house. He leaned back in and shut them again and closed the curtains.

Her beside table and stacks of books on top and next to it. He opened one of them and let the pages fall and then put it back on the stack. He sat on the bed. Then, laid back on it with his head on the pillow. He laced his fingers over his chest and looked up at the canopy. Shifted over to the other side and did the same.

What is he doing?, Elizabeth thought. 

He rolled back to sit up with his legs over the side of the bed. He raised up once, and then another time, and let himself drop back again, gauging the flexibility of the mattress.

He reminded her of a child in this moment, as he ran his hands over the bedding and sheets, pulling the canopy curtains left and then right again. What was he doing? This wasn’t like Tom Riddle at all. He stood again and looked at the pictures framed on the other bedside table. He gauged himself in the mirror on the wall next to it. He looked at the bookshelf, skimming over the titles and running his fingers along them. Her heart skipped a beat as he skimmed over The Tales of the Beatle and the Bard, but he skipped over it just as he did the others.

He didn’t seem to want to leave, as he even squatted down and looked at the books on the lower shelves, stacked over one another and spilling over onto stacks on the floor when there was no room.

“Am I speaking to Tom Riddle, or another entity?” She asked, sitting on the bench at the base of the bed.

“You seem to know everything about me, I simply want to know everything about you,” he responded, picking up a well-worn book from the floor and taking a seat next to her on the bench as he opened it.

”And how long is this going to take?” She responded.

”I’ve yet to gauge your bathing chambers.” He replied, reading the notes she made in the margins of Pride and Prejudice.

”Feel free.” she commented, taking off her heels and flexing her feet out. He flipped a page.

”You are like Elizabeth aren’t you?” He asked. This sent a jolt through her, until she realized what he was referencing, and she calmed again. The main character of the book, Elizabeth Bennet.

He spoke in explanation, “There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.’,” he quoted. And still, he added, “You underlined this and wrote, ‘Lizzy is so oblivious’—What did you mean?”

”She thought Darcy was attempting to intimidate or humiliate her.”

”Was he not?” Tom asked. 

Elizabeth scoffed. “Of course not! She’s being prejudiced. He just wanted her to play the piano.”

”Was that not an attempt to humiliate, given her poor abilities?” Tom followed.

“He loves her. He wants to hear her play. He wanted to know her, in every way, even if she was not sufficient.” She paused, and looked over at Tom's expression. He was still inspecting the book, leaning over it with his face close. A hair fell out of place. He was clearly fascinated by whatever notes she’d made in the margins.

Stupid, she thought. It felt strange to have such a simple conversation after what they just spoke about. 

He snapped the book shut, suddenly disinterested, and tossed it back onto the bed and stood. Elizabeth followed, to where he indeed did enter the bathing chambers. She swiftly ran and stood in front of the toilet. “Nothing to gauge here.” she said strictly. He wagged a finger at her.

How could he change so quickly? 

He strangely reminded her of how he’d looked in the Chamber of Secrets. Unkempt and vulnerable, with his hair and robes astray. Ironic, that within the chamber, he held no secrets. But now, he didn’t seem to have a care in the world. A hint of playfulness. A hint of a different type of vulnerability. And just like then, he was more beautiful than she’d ever seen him. More beautiful, even, than in the chamber. He gave in and moved onto the bathtub.

Elizabeth thought she was going mad when he stepped inside of it. It was dry and clean, but still— he was fully clothed. And this was Tom Riddle. Her greatest enemy. The person who had tortured her friends, her cat.

He crouched down and sat, legs brought to his chest. He tried to move around, but couldn't. 

He turned and stretched his legs and arms out. ”This is far too small.”

“It’s perfectly large.” Elizabeth defended.

”You object to anything I say,” he reasoned, and turned on his side. He couldn’t even curl into a fetal position— his arms and legs too long. He looked silly, she realized.

What was he even doing? She barked out a laugh. He turned his head to look at her, still trying to make himself smaller. She couldn’t help herself, and fell into hearty laughter that wracked her stomach.

He quickly sat back onto his butt and placed his hands on the edge of the tub. “As I said, far too small.”

She laughed harder.

He stood in the tub, turning to the window, “And a window. No curtains!”

She shook her head, holding her stomach.

He still maintained the strict atmosphere of scolding, screwing his face up like he couldn’t understand her laughter.

“This is no laughing matter. You risk your decency.”

”No-,” she said through her laughing, “Get back in the tub. It’s perfect-,”

He pointedly stepped out of the tub and side-stepped her to inspect the toilet.

”No!” She immediately exclaimed, but he was sitting now. On the toilet seat.

”Tom!” She said, grabbing his arm and trying to bodily pull him from the toilet seat. Her weight was no match for his, but something about her struggle made him burst into an immediate bark of laughter. It was short, in a manner that seemed to leave his body without his knowing. But after the first of it, he couldn’t stop. And now they were both laughing, Elizabeth still tugging at him and Tom watching her in great amusement in her struggle.

“Very pleasant view from here,” he said through his laughter, “I can see it now-,” and she finally managed to shove him off the toilet seat so he stumbled to his feet.

Their laughing drifted into a halt at the sound of hissing.

Artemis stood in the threshold of the bathing chamber, and swiped a paw as her entire body raised with fur standing up straight. Tom laughed harder, and Elizabeth hardened and slapped him harshly on the arm.

”You tortured my cat!”

”You-,” he laughed still, “You- You were being insufferable.”

Elizabeth slapped his arms again and again until finally he caught her wrists in his grasp and stopped laughing. Artemis squeaked and scurred away, no doubt back underneath the bed where she liked to hide.

And he was looking down at her, and her up at him, with her in his grasp and inches away from being flush against his body.

He dropped her wrists like she’d scorched him, expression overtaken by something unidentifiable before he turned away with a hand over his jaw.

”If you seek to be friends with me, Tom, I resent you too much.” Elizabeth said. But she still didn’t step away. She waited for him to compose himself. To respond. It seemed her presence was more of a press than any words were.

“This wasn’t- Friends do not act so. I was simply- inspecting,” He responded, suddenly standing up straight and straightening his robes.

“Poor fellow, you are.” Elizabeth remarked sarcastically, and stepped away and back into her bedroom.

Tom turned his head, eyebrows furrowed, and followed her. ”Poor fellow,” he mocked her voice. She turned quickly, and he almost ran straight into her.

“I’m no poor fellow.” He reiterated.

”You do not know the joys of friendship. And you tortured my cat.”

”Oh let that go, why don’t you?” He drawled, crossing his arms.

”It was a few minutes ago!”

”I’m not a saint!” he claimed, thrusting his hands in the air and to his side.

”Apologize.” She said strictly.

Tom laughed shortly, but stopped at her expression.

“Apologize.” She said again, tone more firm now.

”I’m not apologizing to a cat.”

Moments later Tom was crouched over on his hands and knees and looking underneath the bed, saying, “I’m sorry.”

”Artemis!” She added, firmly. Her hand was on the back of his head, shoving him down harder. He reeled back, ready to bark at her, but she had his wand in her grip. She’d commandeered from him in a struggle, and now held it between her two hands in a similar pose to snap that he’d done to her. His jaw clenched and he returned back to his pose. “I’m sorry, Artemis.” he said, looking at the curled up and hissing cat underneath the bed.

He whirled back before Elizabeth could even blink, grabbing his wand out of her hand and leaning over her.

He was smiling. It was triumphant, but not that cruel kind. The kind of winning a simple game. They easy and naïve kind of smile.

A there was strategy here, even now. The strangeness of his behavior was not missed. Or rather, the vulnerability of it was not missed.

So even as he leaned over her, with his arm up and holding his wand and his face only a breath from her own, she said, “This is what friends do. They bicker and joke and make fun.”

He reeled back, holding his wand in two hands and looking like that child again.