Chapter Text
“So, what do you think about Riddle, Lestrange and Avery ?” Emilia asked as she bit into her toast of butter.
“I kiss Lestrange and bite off his tongue, I marry Avery before making his life a living hell and I’m killing Riddle in the most painful way possible.” You said with a bright innocent smile as a weirded out second year Gryffindor seat far away from you.
“By Merlin [Y/n], out of the three of them you kill Riddle ?” Evan said, raising an eyebrow as he brushed off some crumbs on his Hufflepuff uniform. “The guy is basically a saint !”
“She is crazy mate,” Emilia let out between two sips of pumpkin juice. “What do you expect from Miss Always-Getting-In-Trouble ?”
You and your two best friends, Emilia Clapton and Evan Miller, were reunited at the Gryffindor’s table. Every day since your first year at Hogwarts, you three had the habit of eating, by taking turns, at one of the huge tables representing your respective houses. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Like every other day since the beginning of your fifth year, you had decided to follow your breakfast with a little game, in order to pass time and avoid stressing over your first exam of the week. Emilia had a flash of ingenuity after one of your sharp comments on a little group of seventh year students. They were handsome to die for, you admit that, but particularly restrictive. In fact, the group of students, surrounded by other admiratives students, had blocked the main road leading straight to your Care of Magical Creatures class. Forced to take another path, not to say a considerable detour (that will put the three of you late), you had been ruminating all the way there.
“I'd rather die than ending up with one of those guys,” you had announced with disdain at your friends.
“Sorry [Y/n], but I have to differ. Trystan Williams is not material to throw away,” countered Even with his usual neutrality. “Matter of fact, I think he would rather die than ending up with you .”
You almost punched his nose right there but Emilia, with a simple glare, stopped you in your tracks.
“For one and only kiss, why not,” you admitted reluctantly. “But getting in a serious relationship with him ? I would rather get married with McFadyen, even if it means having to listen to his monologues about the Goblin’s Revolution for the rest of my life.”
Since then, Emilia had invented her own game. Marry, Kiss, Kill . A clever way to joke about the pretentious kid of the magic school, or to come out with extraordinarily funny alternatives to an uninteresting set of choices. For example, Emilia had to choose who to marry, kiss or kill between her three ex boyfriends.
“I kiss Charles, because he kiss the best out of the three of them, Richard dies because he is not my type and I marry Marcus,” she had explained casually as if her choice wasn’t the worst one she made since the beginning of the game.
“Marcus ?!” Echoed your and your best friend's voice.
“But he manipulated you !” You whispered angrily, reminding with sharp precision all the things the young Ravenclaw did to Emilia.
“And broke your heart !” Added Evan, dumbfounded.
“He literally cheated on you…” You added before getting cut by Evan.
“...With your brother !”
“Stop !”
Emilia had stopped your arguments, obviously valid, before placing correctly her blue tie with bronze stripes, all with her signature mischievous smile.
“It’s for his money. After that, a little dose of acromantula venom in his cup of tea and the case is closed.”
With understanding “ooh” and a few laughter, you continued the game. A week later, and you still weren't over it. If Emilia and Evan were often the target of the game, this morning, it was your turn to be the center of their propositions. Not having any romantic relationship with anyone over the last four years at Hogwarts, your friends were more than interested in your opinion on the rest of the students. If, at the beginning, Emilia restrained herself to friends and vague acquaintances, the game quickly turned around the people you despised the most within the establishment. And by Merlin’s beard, there was a lot.
No one doubted the clear rivalry between your house and the Slytherin’s. It was established ever since the historical and explosive argument between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Rare were the friendships that included a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, and it was even more unlikely to find the two dating. Though, at the beginning of your first year, you didn’t understand why the anger of two dead men over a thousand years old could put so many students against one another.
That wasn’t until you met him .
Tom Riddle .
He had caught your eye almost immediately. Matter of fact, he attracted every first year’s. It was an uncanny and weird attraction, like Riddle was a powerful magnet filled with charisma. ‘Uncanny’ because he was just a first year student, and ‘weird’ because he wasn’t your type at all.
Your first class with the Slytherins was horrible. Truly a nightmare .
Having been raised by your muggle dad and without any information on Hogwarts aside from what your old aunt Hilda accepted to give you -which wasn’t a lot-, you found yourself terribly surprised. Snarky remarks here, and dumb comments there. But it wasn’t like Gryffindors weren’t doing the same. You were baffled by the ridiculous actions of your peers, but even more by the lack of interest of your professor. Put in groups of four (two Gryffindors and two Sythlerins), you had been paired with Tom Riddle, Amanda Eastcliff and Gerald Fitzwilliam to prepare your first potion. It should have been easy. After all, it was a Wiggenweld potion, and the weakest version at that. Only a few ingredients and a short list of instructions were given and that should have been enough.
But apparently, Amanda Eastcliff couldn’t contain the insults in her chest for an hour. She felt the need to explain how people like you , born from a mixed couple, were the essence of what was wrong in the Wizard World. You had tried really hard not to show her the boxing technique your muggle father had shown you to defend yourself. Instead, you had told her she wasn’t worth even a third of him, that people without magic were a lot more honorable, using only the strength of their hands and the determination of their souls to accomplish what they wanted. Fiztwilliam, a terribly shy muggle-born and one of your closest friends today, had sent you a warm smile, showing his gratitude. The young slytherin, shouting glances toward Riddle to seek some support, was quick to respond with a rude laughter, before calling your mom a muggle’s whore , which made you lost your mind. You were about to give her the best right hook of your career, -one that would have made your dad proud, you were positive about it-, before Tom Riddle stopped you from walking any closer toward Amanda. He had grabbed the naked part of your arm firmly, and with a glance, he discouraged you from going further.
After that, eleven years old you had one of the nastiest migraines of your life. You had managed to ask weakly to your professor if you could get to the Hospital Wing, knowing damn well what a migraine of this caliber would lead to. According you a pass, you had to run with difficulty to the nearest toilets, locking yourself in the stalls, breathing hard as you sat on the toilet seat.
Flashes of white and color blinded you before you suddenly found yourself in front of the gold phoenix statue. Later, you will understand that it was the entrance gate to Dumbledore’s office, but for the meantime, you were too busy noticing your reflection in the mirror next to you. Older by at least twenty years and presenting multiple scars, your face showed visible stress. Anxiety, even. You wore a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to your elbows that showed deep scars and burns, and a professional tie you had loosened, probably out of discomfort. You didn’t have the chance to examine yourself better as the stairs mechanism snapped, catching your attention. Your heart begins to pound faster and faster in your chest as a body starts to appear in your view. Even if your vision was set twenty years into the future, the man walking toward you was looking exactly like Tom Jedusor. Or at least, the shadow of him. His dark eyes had a hint of danger, his skin was a sick shade of white and his ebony hair was longer than when you two were at school.
“Professor [L/n],” he had called you, with an acid tone. “Or should I say, Professor Hammond ?”
“I am as associated with the Hammond's family as in my teenage years,” you responded harshly. “I doubt you would want me to call you Tom or Riddle after all I heard about you and your little…”
You seemed to look out for the word that could best describe what you had in mind.
“ Activities .” You settled with a light frown, changing your anxious features into icy ones..
“Activities ?” Tom raised an eyebrow, fakely innocent, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dear.”
You sigh, tired, “I know what you are Riddle. And I know what you did. Muggles, muggle borns, wizards and witches that don't bow to your feet. Werewolves that suddenly attack teens and children, inferius coming out of nowhere.”
Crossing his arms, his signature smile full of arrogance and pride brushing away the last faux innocence in his appearance, “Do you have proof, [L/n] ?”
Your lack of evidence was as obvious as the sky is blue and the grass is green. But you weren’t gonna back down that easily.
“I’ll have them soon enough .”
Tom laughed loudly, but nothing in his eyes meant he found you funny.
“You are braver than before. I guess that’s what becoming an Auror does to someone.” His gaze carefully checking the scars on your face and arms. “That, and a lot of pain. I wonder if your body can take another wound….”
You put your hand on your hip, right next to your wand. Tom’s eyes followed your movement with a smirk.
“I might not be an Auror anymore, but I can assure you that I can still defend myself.”
Tom opened his arms, looking right and left, as if he was looking for something, “From what ? You think I would do anything to you ?”
He let out a new laugh, darker and ominous, taking a step further. A shiver went down your spine as your bodies were now inches from each other. Tom’s fingers gently brushed your chin, cold panic flooding your senses against the warmth of his skin. Your mind screamed danger and your heart urged you to run away despite the touch being nothing but soft. You wanted to push him away, leaving far from him, far from his reach. But his eyes…
What the fuck ?! You thought as you noticed them turning red, for a brief second only. But it was there . It couldn’t have been your imagination.
“My dear [Y/n]...” He whispered, his hot breath crashing against your lips. “I’m not planning on hurting you anytime soon. But I will get you. One way or another.”
You scoffed, irritation building as you release your chin from his hand. Tom smiled, letting you go with ease.
“I would rather die,” you spat out at his gut wrenching promise.
On that statement, you heard his terribly dark laugh echoing through the walls, through your head, scaring you to your core. It got louder, louder and as you finally got back inside the toilet stall, you could still hear the remanence of the bloodcurdling sound.
Getting out of the girls toilets, you swore to yourself to stay away from Tom Riddle.
As far as your memory goes, you always had a peculiar relationship with the future. Reading it with some tea leaves or stars was already a hard enough task, but having visions ? Having the Sight , or the third eye , or whatever they used to call seeing the future , was an extremely rare gift. So rare that a few witches and wizards faked it in exchange for loads of money. It worked especially well in the Muggle World.
You, on the other hand, called it a curse . Each time you had a vision, it was pure torture. And the fact it was the leading cause of your mom’s death made you even more hate this so-called ‘gift’. With your dad’s order to keep those visions a secret, you couldn’t rely on anyone to help you with them. Nobody to talk to either.
More aware than the Muggle World about quacks and fake premonitions, visions weren’t taken seriously in the Wizard World. With a little research, you found out that Seers was the official name for people like you, though it wasn’t a title you could assign yourself freely. Seers were licensed and registered by the British Ministry of Magic . Most of the time, they ended up working for the Ministry, in the Department of Mysteries . It was the best way to protect themselves, as Seers were often kidnapped by evil sorcerers and the Ministry gave full on protection to them. Considering they couldn’t save your mom from those evil characters, your dad had prohibited any talking on the matter. Your curse included.
Your visions were random. Sometimes, only touching someone or something would work, the rest happened in your dreams.
With you only having a few visions in the past, the one you had the 12th september 1938 about Tom Riddle was enough to lead you away from the young man. By fear and hatred. For four years straight, you avoided him. Walking in a different direction when you spotted him in a hallway, working with anyone but him, even toning down your energetic and sparkling personality just to get unnoticed by the Slytherin. With all the attention Tom received, you were out of his sight and out of his mind.
Now entering your 5th year at Hogwarts, and with no-less than zero interactions with Riddle, you started to put your guards down, allowing yourself to boud mouth the Slytherin from time to time. To laugh a little louder even around his friend group, attracting sometimes, one or two bad comments on Gryffindors. The only two people that knew your hostility for Riddle were Emilia and Evan, but not knowing about your visions, they didn’t understand how on earth you could despise him.
That could also explain why they were so entitled to find out the real reason for your hatred this morning.
“No offense guys but I have DADA class coming in like… fifteen minutes,” you said, stopping the game, at their dismay.
“Come on [Y/n], give us a hint !”
Evan nodded, following you with Emilia, “I agree with Em. Why Tom Riddle ? Did he do something to you ?”
You shake your head, “No he didn’t do anything.”
Yet .
But you couldn’t tell them. Not about the gift, not about the nightmares of a war he caused. Death and danger were the two words you could use to describe Tom. Fear and anger were the two emotions you felt toward him. But how could you explain that to your friends ?
“Then what is it ?”
You turned toward your two best friends, putting your hands on your hips.
“Emilia, you should know better than anyone in this school that I hate perfect people. Tom Riddle is the embodiment of everything I hate.” You say rapidly, not noticing their eyes opening wide as they look behind your back, “Being too perfect always hides something, and considering he is more than perfect, I bet it’s a dark one at that !”
“Oh, really ? You caught my attention [L/n].”
Tom Riddle’s voice sent goosebumps on your skin as you turned slowly toward him, an awkward smile twisting your facial features.
He was handsome, as always. Smooth dark hair brushed perfectly enough to give off control and balance, a clean and ironed uniform that contrasted badly with yours, stained and scruffy. Two inches taller than you, you had to raise your head to make eye contact. His eyes were the most unoriginal color, a dark brown that iced your veins and accelerated the palpitations of your heart and yet they were so… hypnotising.
If it wasn’t for your past vision, Tom Riddle would be the most conventionally attractive looking man you ever laid eyes on. The charismatic aura you had sensed four years ago only intensified and enhanced his already beautiful features.
“So ? What is it ?” He asked with a polite smile.
You let out an anxious laugh. Even if you knew what he was capable of, your visions were more than twenty years into the future. And it all happened out of school. There is no reason he would come after you here.
“Well you are perfect,” you repeated sheepishly. “You must have flaws of some kind.”
Tom avoided your question, as if he feared you found something compromising, “That’s your explanation ? If I have no flaws, I must have something to hide ? Do you have any proof, [L/n] ?”
You had a weird sense of déjà vu, and you didn’t like that at all.
“I was joking Riddle, look,” you glanced at your friends with wide eyes before laughing mechanically with them. “Ha ha ha ha. See ? Laughter, fun, amusement ! Nothing serious over there.”
“I know what a joke is , thank you [L/n]. As much as you Gryffindors like to think, we do have a sense of humor.”
“They do ?” Evan asked, with his usual deadpan look.
Emilia contained her laughter as best as she could, while you were turning red out of stress.
Among all the Hufflepuffs, Evan had the worst welcoming personality.
You had a short one-sided hate relationship with him in your first year. Being the person that you were, you quickly confronted him only to be met with a dumb joke with a straight face. As you were still out of words, he took your hand and gave you a high five. A brief shot of him hugging you and a Ravenclaw girl years later passed your mind at the contact of his hand. It’s only days later that you find out who she was. Emilia had fought her older brother, Xander Clapton, in the library, and by ‘fighting’ , you meant that it was her throwing books at him and cursing his ass in front of a very displeased librarian. You and Evan had laughed so hard in front of the scene that the three of you got thrown out of the place, not without a few hours of detentions you spend together. Since then, you have been the best of friends.
“Yes, we do Miller.” Tom returned with a soft smile that could fool anyone but you. “But joking behind people’s backs isn’t really joking, is it ? I’m certain [L/n] didn’t mean anything bad or trully disrespectful. But what kind of Prefect would I be if I started to allow this kind of behavior ?”
You frowned slightly, tilting your head to the side, “A little bit of a totalitarian way of thinking, don’t you think ?”
It took you a second to process what flew out of your mouth. You had worked so hard to go unnoticed and now you were trying to…
To what exactly ? Rile him up ?
Tom smiled brightly, but the flash of anger in his eyes caught your attention. Freezing in place, you forced yourself to laugh awkwardly.
“It was a joke ha ha ha,” you said, punching his arm lightly. “I must have eaten a jester this morning ha ha ha.”
“[Y/n] are you okay ?” Emilia called you out as she arrived by your side. “You seem a little pale, you want to go to the Hospital Wing ?”
“Nah, it’s probably the jester jumping around my stomach,” you joked lightly as Evan took your side.
“Or the crepes you got.” He pointed out your Gryffindor uniform, stained from all the chocolate you used on the french dish.
Tom seemed to be more and more triggered by you and your friends yapping. In order to avoid being the center of his wrath, you decided it was best to send them to their class.
“ Potion class is far away guys. You should get going before Professor Slughorn takes off points from your houses.”
Evan rolled his eyes, knowing damn well professor Slughorn didn’t show any real interest in Hufflepuffs, while Emilia struggled to not insult the teacher. She never had him in her heart. Matter of fact, she didn’t have a lot of people in any way, but since you were all facing his favorite student, she kept her mouth closed and dragged Evan away, apologizing quickly for not being able to walk with you to class.
You turned around to watch your friends disappear around a corner and sigh.
Oh you wished you were with them. But unfortunately, you didn’t took their advanced class, preferring Defence Against the Dark Arts with professor Dumbledore. After all, you wanted to become an Auror, even with your past vision. You had seen the scars and burns, that probably came along with trauma. Yet, you were willing to make that sacrifice. If around Hogwarts you were helping everyone that needed some bravery and muscles, you would do so later in life. That’s just how your dad raised you to be. Well, to be fair, he didn’t say that so you could dream of integrating the equivalent of the Army but still.
After a few seconds, you turned your heels to get back on the opposite way, just to be met with a torso.
Taller than you, you had to raise your head to see who it was.
As if life wanted to kill you with a panic attack, you ended up facing Tom Riddle…. Again . Still set right where you left him and, apparently, slightly bothered by the contact of your bodies.
“We’re in the same class. Why don’t we go together ?”
You take a step back, “Thanks for the offer but I’m good.” You said, shaking your hands in front of him. “I need to go to the bathroom so I’ll be a little late.”
“I don’t mind waiting for you.” Tom said, his polite smile still on. If you don’t come up with something quick, it’ll be the end of all those years of effort.
“But you’ll be late. You’re never late !”
Tom shrugged, “I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will allow me this little delay considering it’s a one-time transgression.”
You felt your hopes die, before an idea came through your mind. It will be humiliating, awkward, and potentially lead to mockery if it came out but… It was the best you could come with.
“Riddle, you don’t understand…” You came closer, intimating him to lower his head. The Slytherin followed your indication, eyeing you suspiciously, before you whispered in his ear, shameful. “It’s a number two emergency.”
…
“...What ?”
His mask shattered for the split of a second. Irritation mixed with pure astonishment. Like his plan didn’t work out well, but the reason for it wasn’t the one he expected in a million years.
“You mean… You…”
You mentally prepared yourself to say the words that would dig your grave, swallowing hard, red from embarrassment, before letting a shaky, “Have explosive diarrhea.”
It must have been less than a minute, but it felt like hours. Staring into each other’s eyes after you just told the dumbest thing in your entire life. It was the most unreal scenario you could have come up with, out of all the possibilities imaginable, you took the worst one. Tom Riddle will literally kill people in the future, and you were just there, talking about fucking diarrhea.
Oh you wished Merlin could just open a portal beneath your feet and let you die in peace.
“So… see you later,” you finished, rushing to the closest toilets nearby with no thoughts in mind except that you were alive from this interaction.
I did it ! It cost me my dignity but I did it ! You laughed to yourself, entering one of the stalls.
Tom Riddle won’t come to you anytime soon. Matter of fact, it’s more likely that he actively starts to avoid you just the way you did for the past four years.
With that in mind, you allow yourself to relax before getting interrupted by a whiny voice.
“This is my crying stall !”
You swallow the exhaustion that almost came out with a loud sigh as you understand who was banging on the door. You open it, reluctantly, ready to face Myrtle Warren.
“Mimi… What a pleasant surprise.”
“Pleasant ?!” She screams at you, making you flinch, “How could it be a pleasant surprise when your little friend Evan Miller rolled his eyes when he got paired up with me ?!”
Myrtle always had the habit of being over dramatic. You were a drama queen as well, but you managed to tone it down. She, on the other hand, always succeeds in making it everyone else’s problem.
Emilia often complained about her. Being both sorted in Ravenclaw, she was forced to spend days and nights with her. Every time they would see each other, they would start bickering like sisters. If it wasn’t for their physical differences -and their date of birth-, you would have bet your left arm that they were long lost twins. Their arguments were even worse when you or Evan were involved. With his nonchalant attitude and your obvious interest in a fight, it drove them crazy.
“You’re sure he rolled his eyes at you ?”
Myrtle rolled her eyes in annoyance, which was highly hypocritical of her but you left that aside.
“Not technically .” She admitted in defeat. “But it was definitely because of something I said.”
You hold back a laugh, “What was it then ?”
Myrtle looked at her right, then at her left, as if she was looking for any kind of possible interruption. Then, she walks closer to you, her eyes filled with mischief.
“They were talking about you, you know ? Emilia…” Myrtle showed obvious disgust before finishing her sentence, “...and Miller.”
You weren’t surprised about it. Like any other friends, they would talk behind your back. But not in a bad way. You had caught them once and it was the most adorable thing ever. They were debating whether or not they were good friends and if they truly deserved you. It was around your third year and, at that time, you three already had chosen different careers paths. Evan’s and Emilia’s needing the same classes to accomplish their goals, you found yourself more lonely than usual. The fact that they were so concerned about you warmed your heart and you couldn’t help yourself from jumping behind them and hugging them tightly.
But now, with Myrtle’s love for dramas, you raised an eyebrow, clearly more interested than what you let on.
“...And ? You’re not gonna make me beg for an answer I hope.”
Myrtle shook her head from right to left, smiling, “I need a service.”
“I’m not sure the information is worth that price.”
“Come on [Y/n] !” Myrtle punched your arm, impatiently. “Where is your sense of adventure ? Curiosity ? I thought you helped people !”
It was true that you helped people from time to time. When you had a vision about a lost object, or a premonition of someone hurting themselves. It was subtle enough to not raise suspicions and, beside that, you always loved helping. Even when you didn’t have visions. How many times did you end up in detention for sneaking in the Forbidden Forest, or joining Hagrid in his research for dangerous animals ? But Mimi being, well… Mimi, you were sure she would ask for something petty and low, such as, throwing Dungbombs at a girl she can’t stand or putting slugs in a boy’s hair that probably rejected her.
“I help people that need it.” You corrected her, massaging your sore arm. “I’m sure your request is not that urgent.”
Or important.
“Nonsense ! I promise you, it’s worth the risk. Both my information, and my…” Myrtle seemed to look for the word, “Request.”
You let out an exhausted sigh, but finally gave in, “ Fine. I’ll do what you want. Now, tell me what they said.”
Myrtle’s smile brightened suddenly, before slowly fading. “They were wondering why you were hating Tom Riddle…”
You wait, until you understand she wanted you to ask about it. “What ? That’s it ? Don’t tell me that is your information, Myrtle.”
“Oh don't ‘Myrtle’ me !” She frowned briefly. Then her peaceful smile returned. “But that’s not it. See, they talked about the possibilities that could bring your hatred on such,” she inhaled, rolling her eyes, “handsome person.”
You put a hand on your hips, eye twitching as you hold your snarky comment on the said ‘handsome person’, “What were those possibilities then ?”
“Well first, they thought you and Riddle had a secret relationship and it ended badly.”
By Merlin, they went down the romantic route faster than a teenage girl reading a Jane Austen novel.
“Then, they talked about the more likely probability of you simply wanting to be…” She looked at you, up and down, clearly not impressed by your physical state. “Different.”
That was a low blow, but understandable. At twelve you were so inclined to be ‘not like other girls’ that when you left that phase, they swore to never let that down.
So you nod your head, patiently waiting for Myrtle to finish her rent.
“Then, I heard them laugh about a theory. And that was at that moment I got sent to their group.”
“And what was the theory about ?”
Myrtle smiled again, pushing her glasses back in place. “Something about you seeing a prophecy about Tom Riddle going crazy.”
She laughed loudly as a shiver ran down your spine in the most uncomfortable way imaginable.
“And what did you say ?” You were afraid of the answer, but forced yourself to ask anyway.
“I mentioned Seers.” Myrtle simply shrugged. “You must not know what Seers are, since your dad is a muggle and all. They can see the future, just like I see you and you see me.”
Shit, shit, shit…
As innocent looking and nerve wrecking sounding as she was, Myrtle Warren was not dumb. And thinking for a brief second that she will be the cause of thousands of headaches. You should have noticed that little sparkle of amusement in her eyes when you accepted her request. It was the equivalent of giving the nuclear bomb’s command to a nine year old hooked on war propaganda.
“So ? Evan rolled his eyes at you because of that ?”
You maintained a strong, calm voice but deep inside, it was an absolute mess. You were terrorized .
“No. He rolled his eyes because I mentioned the Hammond lineage. I’m sure you are familiar with their work ?”
Oh the bitch , you thought harshly.
She had been stalking the borrowed book catalog. She knew you often borrowed the Hammond’s History book, as it was the only connection you could have with your mother, aside from the visions. She was in it, with the rest of that disgusting family of yours. If it wasn’t for the information on your mom or the beauty of the binding, you would have thrown away each page with them on it.
Now, you realize too late that this raised more than suspicions. Myrtle had definitely done her homework on you.
“What do you want Myrtle ?”
“What ?” She faked innocence. “Is it not worth a little request ?”
You move forward, your anger apparent as your face arrives in front of hers.
“Listen to me very closely,” you started, frowning deeply as her smile disappeared and got replaced by fear. “One word about anything. Anything . Whether it’s about the Hammond’s, visions or me . Only one word and I’ll show you why I’m the best duelist in this school.”
Her dark eyes watering, you took a step back, exhaling loudly. This isn’t what you wanted. You weren’t a violent person but just the idea of being vulnerable reduced your patience level. Especially after your previous interaction with Riddle.
Violence wasn’t the answer anyway. Your secret will remain a secret only in exchange of something. You knew the girl, if she didn’t see any worth behind it in the first place, she would have already screamed it in the Great Hall. Besides, you gave her your word.
“...So ? What’s your request ?”
The fear lingered for a few seconds, until Myrtle sensed that you were completely calm.
“You like danger right ?”
You snorted, easing the mood. “Who doesn’t ?”
She smiled back, crossing her arms behind her back, “Then you won’t mind searching for my necklace ?”
“You want me to find… a necklace ? That you lost ?”
“I didn’t lost it.” Myrtle said, making you raise an eyebrow. “A slytherin stole it.”
You sigh again, “Myrtle I can’t start another fight or I’m gonna get expelled for good this time.”
“No, no, no,” she waved the idea with hand movements. “That’s the best part, you won’t even have to fight.”
You tilt your head, starting to get where she was getting, but not liking the idea. At. All.
“She hides it…”
Detention, here we come…
“In the Slytherin’s girls dorms.”