King of Hearts Chapter 31
Masterlist
Summary: Reader and Tom meet during their years at Hogwarts, but as the years pass a rivalry grows between the two of them, which leads from soft beginnings to tragic endings.
What the characters look like!
"There’s nothing special about me. Maybe you’re just obsessed with me."
Pairings: Tom x f!reader
•̩̩͙˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙˚⁺‧.˚ •̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙˚⁺‧.˚ •̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧.
Chapter 31: Triwizard Tournament part III
A week has passed since the Yule Ball. Your friends provided you as much comfort as they could, but eventually you gave them the green light to go home to their families. It took a lot of convincing and telling them that you’ll be okay, but you’d feel even more guilty if they had to miss the rest of the holiday break because of you.
Spending time in your dorm, rotting in bed, that was the new normal. Occasionally when the pain of hunger bothered you for too long, you’d go down to the great hall for food, ignoring everyone and everything in your path. Even Dumbledore had a hard time getting to you.
On one particular day, it was storming heavily. The sound of the rain hitting the windows of your dorm room was too much to bear, it made you feel like you were trapped. Still in your nightwear, you get out of bed and make a beeline for the hospital wing. You just wanted to sleep and forget everything. Telling a lie to Crafince to have her give you a sleeping tonic wouldn’t be too hard.
Was it worth going down that road again? Having to rely on potions to give you peace of mind, the thought of it made you sick, but what choice did you have? The sun set not too long ago, some students who chose to stay in the castle walked around, paying you no mind. You ignored everything in your path, only focused on getting your hands on the small vial that will finally give you some soundness.
Almost in a dazed state, you reach the corridor where the hospital wing is. You stare at the large doors of its entrance, body and mind fighting over what you should do. Give in so you can have peace, or fight so you don’t have to rely on external factors? Who knows how long you stood there until someone snapped you out of your trance.
“What are you doing here?” a voice asks.
You don’t reply. The person walks up to you, standing in front of you. Ah yes, the familiar green embroidered uniform. You’re reminded of your deal with him, a thought that makes you clench your fists in anger.
“I’ll ask again, what are you doing here? Are you injured?” he lowers himself to look at you directly.
“No.” you reply dryly.
“Then, what brings you here?”
“None of your business.”
Tom raises his brow, “I am a prefect, it’s my duty to know-”
“Are you the Ravenclaw prefect?” You ask. Tom stares at you, a little bewildered that you snapped back so rudely, “I thought so, so please bother with your own house before meddling into someone else's.”
You turn around to leave, but Tom blocks your way again. Why does he have to be in your business? It’s damn annoying at this point.
He examines your face, gazing at your dark under eyes, a tell-tale sign of lack of sleep.
“You haven’t been sleeping well.” he states.
“Congratulations on figuring that out, they should give you the Order of Merlin first class for that.”
Your sarcasm confuses him. Expressing concern wasn’t something he did for many people…genuine concern that is. Why are his efforts in vain?
“Why aren’t you sleeping? There aren’t any classes or problems as far as I’m concerned.” He says.
You stare at him, the tiredness of your eyes sending a clear message. You did not want to bother dealing with him or anyone for that matter. Tom quiets for a moment too, but opens his mouth in surprise.
“You, you were going to get that tonic again weren’t you?”
“And what if I was?”
He rubs his temple, “Goodness y/n. I thought that you got over using that, why would you try to put yourself into that position again? You relied on it for fourth and fifth year, don’t tell me that sixth year will also be repeated in the same manner.”
“Well as soon as my world stops looking as though it's going to crash down then maybe I wouldn’t have to rely on so many things to keep me sane.”
Tom scrunches his nose in frustration, “That's…that's idiotic. I cannot believe that you’d be half-witted enough to do something like this.”
“Well then maybe you don't know me well enough to think that I wouldn’t do this.”
As the volume of your conversation increased, it attracted another person to the area. Thankfully it was someone sensible.
“What is going on here?” Dumbledore walks in, confused, “I can hear the both of you down the hall.”
Tom begrudgingly answers, “Professor Dumbledore…y/n is abusing potions to help her sleep.”
“He’s lying!” you exclaim.
“I am not. You admitted that you came down to the hospital wing so you can get your fix. 2 years of relying on it, and she finally stepped away only to try to go back?”
Dumbledore sighs deeply, “Y/n, go to my office, we need to talk.”
You say nothing and walk away. Tom and Dumbledore remain in the hall, watching as your figure disappears past the brick walls.
“You stopped her from getting it?” Dumbledore asks.
“I caught her in a trance-like state staring at the hospital door. One thing led to another, and she confessed…in her own way.” Tom grips on the edge of his uniform, a one on one talk with Dumbledore was the last thing he wanted.
Dumbledore narrows his eyes at Tom before sighing.
“Despite it being unhealthy, I can understand her wanting to rely on something to keep her in a state of motionlessness.”
Tom raises a brow, “How can you justify-”
“I am not justifying. I am explaining. The boy she loved up and left not too long ago, and she is distraught, not to mention she lost her father a year ago. Many things are still on her plate, things that you are aware of.”
Tom stays quiet.
“Have you ever been in love, Tom?” Dumbledore asks.
“Me, sir?”
“I only ask because you were in a relationship with Miss Selwyn not that long ago, correct?”
Tom rolls his eyes in his head. That period of time could barely be considered a relationship, he just wanted connections to powerful pure blood families. Once she served her purpose, there was no use in keeping Lela around anymore.
“I was, we had a brief…romance.” Tom says.
“Only one that has felt love and been in love can understand what she is going through. Perhaps one day if you fall in love, you will understand her need to keep her mind at bay.” With that, Dumbledore turns on his heel and leaves.
“Love…” Tom whispers. He’s never felt love, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel.
Listening to his classmates talk about it, all the emotions that come along with it. The butterflies in the stomach, the rapid beating of the heart, the feeling that you can’t stray too far from them or else you feel like you’re being ripped apart. All of it sounded horrible, like symptoms of a disease. Yet he could not shake the feeling that he has felt some of those things, and the thought of it makes him sick.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
Begrudgingly, you walk into Dumbledore's office. There's a warm fireplace burning its embers in the corner. The flickering is a nice, calming contrast to the storm going on outside. You sit down in one of the cushioned seats, hanging your head off of the chair. The ceiling had moving paintings of different kinds of stars, your eyes follow the movement until you grow tired.
Before you could completely doze off, the door creaked open. Dumbledore walks past you, sitting down at his desk. He takes a deep breath before looking at you.
“Do you have anything to say?” He asks.
“No…”
“Do not try to avoid this. You are headed down a bad path if you continue to ignore your feelings.”
You scrunch your nose, fixing your posture so you can look at him.
“Ignore? My sheets are stained from how much I’ve cried. How can I possibly ignore my feelings when I’m constantly reminded of them at every turning corner?”
Dumbledore's eyes soften. The longer he looks at you, the more familiar he feels. He knows how it was to be young and heartbroken by the things that you couldn’t control. Words of comfort would not ease the pain.
“You’re tired. Go back to your dorm and sleep. But I want you to meet me here tomorrow, ten am sharp.” Dumbledore says.
You scoff, “For what?”
“I will tell you when we meet. Now go directly back to your room, young lady. I don’t want you to wander about whatsoever.”
Sometimes you forget that Dumbledore was your guardian, yet whenever he talks with that tone of authority, you’re quickly reminded of the familial relationship the both of you share now. Unfortunately, calling him father never felt quite right.
You sit up from your seat, walking out of the room without a goodbye. The corridors felt even colder now that you were away from the warmth of the fireplace. Harsh winds forced themselves through the cracks of the castle, sending a shiver down your spine. A flash of lightning gleams through the windows, illuminating the hallway. You could swear that you see a figure in the distance. Rubbing your eyes, you try to look again, but only darkness remains. A deep rumble sounds from the sky, the winds howl with more intensity.
If fatigue wasn’t pulling at your limbs, perhaps you would feel more uneasy. Deciding to pay no mind, you return to your dorm room, hoping to fall asleep.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
Morning arrives quicker than you want it to. The storm from last night had turned into wisps of cold wind that creep through the cracks of your dorm room. After rubbing your eyes open, you look at the clock on your nightstand, it reads 9 am. Only an hour left until your meeting with Dumbledore.
Taking your time to get ready was no longer a form of self-care, rather it was to keep your mind and body from doing anything else. Thinking about the absence of so many people in your life would only lead to a spiral that you aren’t prepared for. Before you knew it, it was half past nine.
‘He said ten am sharp.’ You think to yourself. You’d rather not make him upset with your poor timing, after all it will take some time to get to his office from the Ravenclaw tower.
The halls of Hogwarts are quiet in the morning, students are likely sleeping in, soaking in their winter break. It’s preferable this way, no one to ask you where you’re going, why you’re going, every question under the sun. Some even look at you with pity after what happened with the Yule Ball. Rumors spread fast about Archer's sudden departure. Some were misconstrued, saying that you were cold heartedly abandoned. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
You reach Dumbledore's office, knocking on the door. A voice is hushed on the other side. The door opens on its own, allowing you to walk in. Dumbledore is sitting in his chair as always, but next to him is a tall older woman in deep red robes.
“Ah, you’re here. Take a seat.” Dumbledore says, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, the same one you always sit in.
The older woman seems to observe you, as if her eyes are taking notes of your movements. You make eye contact for a brief moment but quickly look away from her piercing gaze. Who knew that green eyes could be so terrifying to look at?
After a few minutes of silence, Dumbledore speaks up again.
“Y/n, this is Madam Nightingale. She is a wizard healer.”
You glance up at her again, this time she greets you with a smile.
“I'm deeply worried about you, so I’ve hired her to help you. She’s studied various healing methods in the wizard and muggle world.” Dumbledore says.
Madam Nightingale steps forward.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n. I’ve heard many things about you.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” You reply with a straight smile.
“I’m not forcing any treatment upon you, it will be your wish whether you would like me to work with you.” Nightingale continues to stare down at you.
You glance at Dumbledore who’s resting his chin on his hands. A laugh escapes your lips.
“I don’t have a choice in this do I?” you ask.
“Of course you do. This won’t work if you aren’t compliant.” Nightingale says.
“She’ll be staying at Hogwarts for the rest of the term. I’d like for you to show her around the castle since you know it so well.” Dumbledore gives you a smile.
“I had plans today…” You trail off, trying to quickly think of something, any excuse to get you out of this.
“Like what?” Nightingale cuts in sharply.
You move your mouth but no noise comes out. It's as if looking at her snuffs any excuse you could have possibly come up with.
“Let’s start now, the earlier, the better,” She walks away from Dumbledore and towards you, “Let us depart.”
After Nightingale begins to walk towards the door, you give Dumbledore a look of pure scorn. He laughs to himself, going back to whatever work he had on the table.
You follow behind Nightingale, walking through the halls. She walks with purpose, as if she already knows which way to go. You come to the conclusion that Dumbledore just wanted the both of you to be alone.
“I hear you’re proficient in magic. There was a section about you written in the Daily Prophet.” Nightingale says.
“They exaggerate. I’m just a quick thinker.”
“How humble of you, but it is best to take a compliment when it is given. They say you are a notable duelist. Even Albus praised you.”
“… Thank you.”
Nightingale sneers, “Stubborn girl.”
You roll your eyes, “You seem to know your way around the castle pretty well. It’s as if you’ve been here before.”
“And if I have?”
“Then I don’t see the purpose in escorting you around.”
Nightingale stops in her tracks, staring you down.
“You may be in a state of gloom, but there is no reason for you to bite back. I see common courtesy has left you entirely.”
“… I apologize.”
She was right in a way, it wasn’t fair to take out your frustrations on others. Deciding to keep your mouth shut on any more snide remarks, you continue to walk with her down the halls, pointing out any small details on the way.
“Were you a Hogwarts student?” You ask.
“No. I went to Durmstrang, sorted into house Soscrofa.”
“What’s that equivalent to?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing like the houses of Hogwarts, so there is no comparison.”
You sigh, “Is there no description either?”
Nightingale hums, “We prefer solitude and do not like to be provoked.”
You can’t help but think that her description sounded utterly bleak. Durmstrang was a school located in the north of Europe, and all you’ve heard so far about it is that it’s cold and has an eerie aura. Your dad told some stories of when he was a student there, but not many, seeing as how his wizarding journey ended prematurely.
The Slytherin dungeons were your next stop. After the storm from last night, the walls felt even colder than usual. It makes you wish that you had picked a thicker sweater.
“So, this is where the ambitious ones are sorted.” Nightingale comments.
“Ambitious, resourceful…obnoxious.” you add, thinking of a certain group of people.
“I recall loving my potions class when I was a student. Something about creating something from just a few simple ingredients truly brought joy into my heart.”
“We’re near the potion's classroom, would you like to take a look?” You ask.
Nightingale nods as you lead the way. When you get to the door, you hear the sound of what seems to be fire crackling on the other side. Opening the door, it seems as though someone has occupied the potion's classroom for their own use. A figure kneels near a cauldron that's simmering over an open flame, stirring the pot with constant motion.
You clear your throat, catching their attention.
“Y/n, what are you doing-” Tom, who stands up from his position, quickly quiets when he sees Nightingale behind you.
“Tell me, do you have permission to be here, boy?” Nightingale asks.
Tom stutters, “Y-yes, ma’am…professor?”
You snort, covering it up with a cough. It's always a delight to see him flustered, much more preferable than him always acting like there's a stick up his arse.
“I’m not a professor, but I suppose I will work here for the time being.” Nightingale looks at you, a gaze that you don’t exactly return.
“What are you doing here? There’s no potions class over break.” You say.
“Of course not, but headmaster Dippet gave me permission to work on some few projects. Slughorn had already given his approval for them.”
It’s just like Tom to cover all of his bases. His eyes were sparkling, like he was a golden child who wanted to make a good impression on someone new. He wasn’t in his usual get up of the Slytherin robe and slacks, instead he was sporting a comfortable sweater and trouser combo. His hair wasn’t perfectly styled in his signature wave, it was flat and framed his face. He looked comfortable, relaxed.
“Might I ask for your name, ma’am?” He says.
“You may call me Madam Nightingale, who are you?”
“I’m Tom Riddle of the Slytherin house. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Tom flashes his charming smile, his eyes turning into crescents.
Nightingale takes a look around the potions classroom. All the jars that are cluttered on a shelf, the corners of the dark tables that have been eroded over time. She smiles to herself and turns on her heel, heading back towards the door.
“I have seen enough, we shall continue.” She says, walking out the door.
Right when you’re about to leave yourself, something tugs at the sleeve of your sweater. You turn and give Tom a raised brow, asking what he wants.
“Could we talk, after you’re done with what you’re doing?” he asks.
“Why?”
“Do I need a special reason?”
“I suppose not, but we’re not…friendly enough to spend time with each other.” You tug your sleeve out of his grasp.
“Just think about it, I’ll be here.”
Was there a lighting strike that shot him in the head last night? He was on your heels last night about trying to take a sleeping tonic, even tattling to Dumbledore. Now he wants to talk? It was giving you emotional whiplash, it's as if he has multiple personalities.
You hum a response and walk away. Nightingale is waiting right outside the door, you mutter an apology for making her wait before beginning to walk down the corridor.
“Are you close with that boy?” She asks.
“I don’t think close is the correct word.”
“A rather complicated friendship, how interesting.” She whispers the last part, but you can still hear her words bounce off of the empty halls.
“Interesting how?”
“I just find it refreshing to see friendly bickering between classmates. It brings a sense of nostalgia.”
“You seem to be getting quite nostalgic walking around. Do you long for your days at Durmstrang?”
“You could say that. My young life was quite…eventful to say the least.”
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
After what feels like forever, Nightingale returns to meet with Dumbledore, leaving you alone. Your tired feed slug you all the way back down to the Slytherin dungeons.
Tom’s still tending to his project, albeit it looks as though it's in its end stages now. He sees you walk in and flashes a smile.
“Okay, I’m here. What did you want to talk about?” You ask, walking a little closer.
“A little straight to the point. I thought we enjoyed each other's company?”
“You’re joking, right? You ratted me out to Dumbledore last night when you thought I was going to get another sleeping tonic. What makes you think that I enjoy your company?”
Tom inhales sharply, almost as if he’s silently agreeing with what you’re saying. He digs into the pockets of his trousers and pulls out a small crystal vial with a little bird on top. He slides it over to you.
“What is this?” you ask.
“Draught of peace. I figured that if you’re going to resort to potions, you might as well use one that will ease your anxiety.”
You pick up the vial to examine it, swirling the liquid inside.
“Is this what you were making earlier?” you ask.
Tom shakes his head, “Heavens no. I took that from a supply I made a few weeks ago during potions.”
“Why are you giving it to me?”
“Every time I see you, you seem to be in a daze. I felt regretful after last night's events, so I hope that this will make it up to you.”
“Oh…well thank you.”
“Well, we can’t have you staying like this during the second challenge of the Triwizard Tournament. We have our agreement after all.”
It was as if time stopped when he said that. Your grip on the vial loosened before you slid it back over to Tom. Your brows furrow in anger as you rush towards the door, only to be stopped by him once again.
“What, don’t you want it-” He tries to say.
“Want it? Are you dense? I foolishly thought that you may have given me that out of the goodness of your heart, but I was proven wrong within seconds!” You exclaim, trying to move him out of the way.
“It was out of the goodness of my heart, that was the only vial I have.” Tom puts his hand on your shoulders, walking you back towards the table.
“Oh bollocks, Tom! You wouldn’t have to blackmail me with our deal if you were trying to be a good person! Do you think this is fun? Dangling my friends' relationship over my head knowing the consequences of what will happen if the truth comes out?” You push him to the side to get away from him, but he grasps your wrist within seconds.
“Wait, don’t leave-” he says.
“What is wrong with you!” You try to remove your wrist from his hold, but his grip only tightens.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Being around you makes me rash”
“So it’s my fault you’re mad? You’ve been like this since we’ve met.” You tug at your arm again, but it only results in the both of you pulling at each other.
“I never had conflicting feelings before I met you.”
“I find that unlikely, you’ve probably been nutty since birth. Now let GO!”
You do one final tug of your arm. A white light emerges from your wrist and envelops the room. Tom lets go of you, letting out a scream of pain. He closes his eyes and clutches his hand. When the light dissipates, you’re able to see him again. His brows are furrowed, as if he’s trying to figure out what just happened.
“What happened?” you ask, wondering if he had cast a spell while you were struggling to get your wrist out of his grasp.
He exhales loudly, his voice laced with pain as he opens his hand slowly. Dark red marks cover his palm, as if he was burned. His breathing grows heavier, his grip on his injured hand forces the surrounding skin to turn red.
“I should be asking you that-! You burned me.” He says through gritted teeth.
“I did not. I didn’t even cast a spell…”
“Was it the wandless magic again?” He turns to look at you, his eyes shaking slightly. His face looks flushed, beads of sweat forming above his brow.
“That’s not important. You don’t look so good, let’s get you to the matron.”
“I have a healing potion in my dormitory, I can get it-”
“No. You’re not using your potions to heal something that can be treated by the matron. Let’s go before it gets worse.”
After a few more minutes of trying to convince him, Tom finally agrees to come with you. He complained of the burning sensation that was starting to spread through his hand. A part of you felt guilty for possibly causing it, but perhaps he deserves it for the way he’s been acting. Serves him right for trying to blackmail people.
Madam Crafince eyes the both of you when the doors to the hospital wing open. She begins to tap her foot rather harshly as you walk closer.
“The both of you better not have gotten into a fight again,” She says, her nostrils flared “Why are you holding your hand?”
Crafince walks past you and examines Tom’s hand. Her eyes open wide, almost to the size of dinner plates. She whips her head towards you.
“Are you the cause of this?” She asks, or rather, accuses.
You stutter, trying to find a response. Perhaps it was your fault, but you didn’t know how it was your fault exactly. One minute you’re trying to escape from Tom’s grasp, the next he’s holding his hand in pain. Who’s to blame here?
“It was my fault. I was experimenting with a potion and it went wrong. Y/n found me like this.” Tom says.
“Oh so now he decides to play the role of the hero, how charming.” You think to yourself.
“Potions? I feel like each year something goes wrong with you and that class. Just what are you trying to work on exactly, why can’t you enjoy winter break normally?” Crafince says as she walks towards a bed, gesturing to Tom to follow.
You watch from a safe distance as Crafince begins to apply a healing salve on the burn. It glows for a moment, then she wipes it off. She continues to look at his hand, confusing spreading across her face.
“That's odd…the burn is still there.” She applies the salve again, but is disappointed to find that it has the same effect.
“Tell me, what potion were you working on exactly? None of the medicine is working.” Crafince asks.
“A potion of my own creation… Slughorn said that it would be alright for me to proceed with it as long as I was careful.” Tom glances at you with his head down.
“Well whatever you were trying to make seems to have embedded itself into your skin. I’ll try to find more ointments that may help, but if this doesn’t go away then you may have to go to St. Mungos. What a nasty burn.”
Crafince walks away and you approach Tom. Usually the magic salve is enough to heal even the most severe of injuries, so for it to not work proves the seriousness of Tom’s injury.
“Well, you may have just left a permanent mark on me.” Tom raises his hand, his palm facing you. The red mark looks like a star that tore through his hand, it runs down his forearm. It looks ugly up close.
“I don’t understand what happened. I don't recall using any magic.” You say.
“I don’t think you had to. Wandless magic is your hidden gift.” Tom rolls his eyes, massaging his forearm to ease the pain.
You think for a moment. The training with Dumbledore had only progressed as far as you being able to levitate small objects. This would be the second time you injured someone with it. Both times you were in a state of distress, but you don't recall Lela having burns on her body.
“Once in a blue moon. I haven’t learned to control it beyond being able to levitate objects. This is the second time it seems to have injured someone.”
“Perhaps it only happens when you’re in danger.” Tom says.
“Are you saying that you’re dangerous?” You raise your brow.
Tom smiles, but before he could answer, Crafince comes back with another vial in her hand.
“Let’s see if this will do anything.” She opens the vial, a blue liquid drops onto Tom’s hand. He sighs as the liquid absorbs into his skin, only to see that the scar is still there.
“No luck. How’s the pain?” Crafince asks.
“It’s lessened after that drop, the burning sensation is gone.” Tom says.
For the next hour, Crafince tries anything and everything to try to get rid of the burn mark, but it all ends the same. She’s at her wits end when she decides that it's better to stop before more damage is done.
“I suppose the pain being gone is a good sign, but I’m afraid that I can’t do much more for you Riddle. You’ll have to go to St Mungos and have that looked at. Stop working on that potion while you’re at it.” Crafince places the final vial she used back into the storage bin, a little disappointed that she wasn’t able to fix Tom’s ailment.
“I’m sure it will sort itself out, Madam Crafince. Thank you for trying your best.” Tom says, giving her a charming smile before walking out of the hospital wing.
You stand and watch, but that just seems to get you a stare from Crafince.
“Well, are you going to go after him?” She asks.
“Am I supposed to?” You reply.
“Something tells me that he didn’t get that injury from a potion, isn’t that right Miss l/n?”
“I really wouldn’t know, madam.” You say before walking away.
Tom is nowhere to be found once you exit the hospital wing, and in a way you find that relieving. Having to face him after practically scarring him isn’t what you wanted to deal with so early in the day.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
The next morning, you took your time to start the day. Nothing to do, no one to talk to. If you really wanted to, you could spend the entire day in your dorm, but there was something inside of you that was telling you to move. The somber rain had already passed, and the smell of petrichor welcomed you as you walked through the halls.
As you approach the great hall, you see a figure walking in the opposite direction. Narrowing your eyes for a better view, you realize that it’s Nightingale. Not wanting to run into her, you turn on your heel to walk away. Before you can take a step, you’re forcefully pulled back, your body not in control anymore.
“How very rude of you to not offer me a greeting. Tell me, girl, where are your manners?” Nightingale lowers her wand, allowing you to finally regain control of your body.
“Manners? You just ushered me by your side with magic against my will, there’s nothing polite about that.”
“It was just a summoning spell, no need for the dramatics.”
Nightingale enters the great hall, you follow behind, not wanting to fall victim to another spell of hers. The elves serve breakfast quickly. A bowl of porridge for her and a plate of fried eggs and toast for you.
“I see that you look a little more chipper this morning. Did anything good happen?” Nightingale asks.
You scoff, “Nothing happened, I suppose that I just woke up without any responsibilities and decided to seize the day.” You wave your fork around in a whimsical manner, but there was clear sarcasm in your voice.
Nightingale hums to herself as she eats. She waves her finger, a warming cup of tea appearing right on the table. You stare as she drinks, multiple thoughts running through your mind.
“Dumbledore mentioned that you’re a wizard healer, what kinds of things can you heal?” You ask.
“Many things. Physical, emotional, I’ve done my work with a variety of people.”
You think of Tom and his injury. Crafince wasn’t able to do anything, and she used almost her entire stock of medicines and spells.
“If my…friend had an injury, would you be able to look at it?”
“What friend?”
You grimace, wondering if you should even answer that.
“Tom, you met him yesterday in the potions room.”
“Ah, that one. What injury does he have?”
“A burn on his hand? Our matron tried almost everything, but nothing worked. He may have to go to St Mungos to have it looked at.”
“May I inquire where he got this injury?” She raises her brow.
You don’t say anything. Instead, you’re thinking of all the possible excuses that you can tell her, but of course nothing comes to mind. Nightingale laughs as she watches you break a sweat, as though she’s caught you in some kind of act.
“Let me guess, a rogue spell, courtesy of you?” She smiles.
You’re flabbergasted, how did she read you so well?
“I- how did you?” you stutter.
“It’s often around this age that young wizards begin to smell the distant freedom of being able to use magic on their own terms. They play around with spells and sometimes people get hurt.”
“Well I wasn’t playing around, in fact I was trying to walk away, but there was this bright light and all of a sudden he’s marred!”
The few students who were sitting at the surrounding tables glanced at your sudden outburst. You compose yourself, focusing on the food that's getting cold on your plate. Nightingale does the same, enjoying her cup of tea.
“Well, can you help him? I don't want him to be scarred for the rest of his life.”
“No.” She says, plain and sharp.
“But you’re a skilled healer, surely you have some kind of method you can use.”
“You are the person who caused it, so you will be the person who will fix it. I can help you figure out what steps you may take, but I will not do the work for you.” Nightingale gets up from her seat, looking at you one last time before she walks out of the great hall.
You set your fork down, losing your appetite. It would be best to avoid Tom for now, at least until you can find a way to heal him of the wound. The thought of talking to him knowing that he’s practically holding not just Melissa’s relationship but now potentially that injury over your head is sickening.
“Arse.” you whisper, pushing your plate away from you.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
A few days pass. You’ve met with Nightingale a few times to discuss potential ways to heal Tom’s injury, but somehow she always managed to turn the question back to you. How you were feeling, what you were doing to pass time, it felt planned.
On the other hand, perhaps you should thank Tom. All this time spent searching for a way to solve his injury has occupied your brain. Physically stimulated by all the research and conversations with Nightingale, you find it hard to think about all the events that have led you this far, yet you can still feel the void deep inside of you. It’s a dullness that seems to leave you breathless sometimes.
Nightingale says that’s normal, and that the more you try to focus on other things, the more likely you are to distance yourself from the pain. It’s never that simple, or else you would have done it a long time ago.
The gloominess does seem to dissipate whenever you get a letter from Nathan. He’s managed to hide the messenger owl from aunt Merin by keeping it in a faraway shed. Your aunt, much like your mother, is a muggle. Nathan didn’t show any talent for magic, but he’s worried about Dahlia. She’s still young, babbling away as a four year old would, but if weird things begin to happen, it would be hard to explain the concept of magic to someone that doesn’t know of it whatsoever.
It’s during dark, stormy nights that you hold these letters close to you. The most recent one came yesterday. You found yourself in the Astronomy tower, hiding away in a corner surrounded by books as you re read the letter, longing for the family you once had. It’s been a year since you’ve seen him and Dahlia, and you wonder how much they’ve grown. You’re still surprised that Aunt Merin believes in the whole “boarding school” idea that your mom thought of when people asked where you were.
You fold the letter and place it into your pocket, about to get up. You stop when you hear the door creak open. It’s past curfew, no one should be out right now, you included. You crouch down again, hoping that whoever it is leaves quickly. Glancing at your surroundings, you notice a book that you tossed aside whilst reading earlier. It’s in plain sight, and as the wind picks up, the cover opens, making the pages thrash about.
Watching intently, you pray that whoever it is just assumes it's a rogue book that a student left behind. You hear footsteps that stop nearby, everything seems to be moving in slow motion until the book you were staring at so closely is violently whisked away.
“Magical cures, volume four.” A voice says, amused.
The wind may be howling, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell who that voice belongs to. Nonetheless, you stay where you are, hidden behind some crates.
That plan works well until your hiding spot begins to float away, along with you. Finding yourself levitating parallel to the ceiling, you look down at the culprit himself.
Tom stands in place, book in one hand and wand in the other, the tip glowing a faint blue.
“My, it seems that we have a trespasser on our hands.” He says.
“Put me down.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” Tom says with an annoying grin.
“What, are you going to keep me up here all night?”
“Maybe it will teach you not to be up past your curfew.”
You roll your eyes, “You’re up past curfew too.”
“Well, I’m a prefect-”
“Of course, you’re a prefect. That means that you can put your foot on anyone's neck whenever you’d like, right?”
“Just you. Everyone else seems to follow the rules.”
Before you can reply, a boom of thunder shakes the building. Tom loses concentration, trying to catch his balance. The spell he cast on you fades, and you immediately plummet to the ground. Luckily, you don’t land on the cold concrete.
“Ow…” You mumble, lifting yourself up onto your hands.
“Ugh- Get off of me.”
You look down, your vision finally focusing after the sudden fall. You’ve landed right on top of Tom, and he does not look one bit pleased about the situation. You cock a brow.
“No, I don’t think I will.” You say mockingly.
All you can see is a glare from him before his hands are on your waist, pushing you off of him and onto your back. There’s a pain at the back of your head, but you can’t reach it to ease the ache. Tom’s above you now, caging you in. His hands lay on your wrists, pressing them down onto the cold floor.
As the wind blows in, it moves his hair away from his eyes. His brows are furrowed, and he’s looking at you as if he’s contemplating your entire existence. There’s confusion, curiosity, frustration, all in a single look.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.
“What are you?”
You scoff, “Stop with the stupid questions.”
“It’s not stupid. I want to know what it is about you that’s so…unique.”
You huff, but the longer you look at him, you realize that he’s not toying with you.
“There’s nothing special about me. Maybe you’re just obsessed with me.” You say sarcastically.
Tom stays silent as he processes what you said. His face relaxes for a moment, as if he’s just had a moment of realization, but displeasure spreads across his face less than a second later.
“Yes, I think I am. And that’s a problem.” He says.
You’re stunned, to the point where you can’t even say anything. No witty remark, no boisterous laugh, just silence as you stare at him wide eyed. The wind picks up again, and this time you catch a trace of his scent. It’s clean, like soap with a bit of rain. It envelops you, like fabricated purity. For some reason it brings you back to your childhood days of running on wet grass after the summer rain. The sheets that your mom put out on the line to dry were soaking wet, but the fresh scent lingered in the air. How long ago was that? You don’t remember. But you do remember chasing your father around the yard, laughing.
Tears well up in your eyes. The emotions hit like a freight train, pulling at your heart strings. You miss those days, you miss your family. When the first tear rolls down your cheek, you sob quietly. Tom takes notice, getting off of you.
“No, no, don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that, I-” He says, but much to his dismay you begin to cry harder.
Tom contemplates on what he should do. It’s unnerving to see you like this. You look weak when you cry, and you’ve never been weak in his eyes. There’s an ache in his heart that he tries to ignore, but it grows stronger with every weep that escapes your lips.
He takes hold of one of your hands that’s covering your face, pulling it forward to get you off of your back. He wipes the side of your face with his hand, your tears spreading across his palm. His hands are cold, they make you wince. He notices.
“My apologies.” He says.
You shake your head, “It’s fine…” Wiping your face with your sleeves.
“Why did you start crying?” Tom asks. There’s something inside of him that’s clawing at him to not bother asking, but he does so anyway. It’s not the first time he’s ignored this feeling.
You stare at your shoes, trying to focus on one thing so that your mind doesn’t slip again.
“I miss the way my life was, when it was simple. Before the drama, before the wars, before everything. I feel so lost, like if I blink, that everything will be taken from me. Things are moving so quickly and I can’t keep up-”
Tom places his hands on your shoulders, steading you. You realize that you were ranting to the point where you were out of breath.
“It’s okay to feel lost. No one is expecting you to solve the world's problems.” Tom says.
“That’s not the point. I feel as though I have no control of anything. I feel weak, I feel useless.”
“How insulting.”
Your mind stops to process what he had just said. You look at him with a raised brow, wondering how he has the gall to voice his unnecessary input. He returns your confusion with a smile.
“You and I have fought many times. And I hate to admit it, but as far as dueling goes, you always get the upper hand. So to say that you are weak and useless is an insult to me, and I don’t take kindly to insults about me.”
“Are you serious? I’m pouring my heart out to you, and you’re thinking about yourself?”
“Yes but look, I got you to stop crying.”
You scoff, pushing his hands off of you, “Unbelievable. You are truly unbelievable.”
“I think you’re missing the point here. I admitted that you’re stronger than me, but all you heard was that I was insulted.”
“In times like this, people often comfort those who are hurting. Are you emotionally inept or something? Did they not teach you compassion at that orphanage?” Realizing what you had just said, you clasp your hand over your mouth.
“Oh heavens no. Tom, I didn’t mean that, I’m just frustrated-” Before you could finish what you wanted to say, you’re pulled into what feels like a hug.
Your face is in Tom's shoulder as he holds you by the back of your head. It feels unnatural, as if he’s never done this before. Maybe you were right about what you said, but you keep that to yourself.
“I admit that I’m not an emotional person, and perhaps my upbringing does have something to do with it.”
You stay quiet, unsure of what to say.
“But I suppose that having you around makes up for it, emotion wise.”
You scoff, trying to pull away from him, but he only holds you closer.
“I don’t know much about your family, but from what you’ve told me, your father seemed like a tolerable man…” Tom bites the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should continue.
“He raised you well, perhaps that’s why you’re such a good wizard. I don’t know much about parental love, but I assume that he is proud of you.”
Your eyes widen in surprise at his offer of solace. In all of your years of knowing him, this is probably the very nicest he’s been. He continues to talk, his hand moving to your back, rubbing circles with his fingers. His hands are warm now, you can feel it through your robes. Fatigue creeps up your limbs as you close your eyes in his arms, drifting to sleep.
Tom feels you slump in his arms, a little irritated that you fell asleep as he was talking. Once he sees your relaxed face, he doesn’t seem to mind it as much. There was no way to get you to go back to your dorm room now however. Answering a riddle would be easy for him, but what lies on the other side, whether it be professors or students, is something he’d rather not encounter. There’s only one option left, the Slytherin dorms. A place he’s familiar with.
After a few spells to make it easier to escort you and to not wake you up in the process, he trudges along back to the Slytherin dorms. Luckily there was no one in the common room, and even luckier, his roommates were with their families over break. Tom places you on a bed of one of his mates whose name he can't be bothered to remember.
He sits down at his desk, pulling out parchment and a quill from his desk. He scribbles into the night his feelings, his grip on his quill tightening with every word.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
The next morning you wake up feeling refreshed, something you haven't felt in a long time. You reach over for your bedside drawer, but are surprised to find that it’s not there.
‘Odd…it’s always to my right.’ You think to yourself.
You open your eyes, slowly taking in your surroundings. You nearly choke at all the green in the room. Quickly turning around, you scan the rest of the room. In another bed, there’s a figure sleeping. Tousled black hair is all you can see, but you know who it is. Who else could it possibly be?
Taking off the covers, you climb out of the bed. Patting yourself down, you find your wand in your coat pocket. Casting a camouflage spell, you exit the room. It might be winter break, but there are still students and staff that stay at Hogwarts. Getting caught coming out of a dorm room that is not yours may just be your last straw.
Thankfully your precautions came in handy, because there were two students in the common room. Thinking that they were busy talking to each other, you take a chance and head for the door, opening it as quietly as you could. The last thing you see before you leave the room is the two students looking at the door in shock.
“Did the door just open on its own?” one of them asks.
“Merlins beard, we’re haunted-”
That’s the last thing you hear before you run down the dungeon halls. You smell like lake water, if that's even possible. A nice bath is the only thing on your mind, to get rid of any smell that could still possibly be lingering.
After a brisk shower, you lay on your bed. It’s been over a week since your friends went back home, but you just now notice how quiet it is without them. Nights especially are lonely with no one to talk to. Perhaps you should thank Tom for last night, it felt nice to have someone there, even if it was him.
“Ugh, but I cried in front of him.” You smack your face with your hands, cringing at the memory.
The hug felt nice, even if it was awkward. You laugh to yourself at his attempts to cheer you up, saying that your father would be proud of you. What would he be proud of exactly? You toy with your bracelet, remembering how stubborn he was about wearing it all the time. The sapphire stone in the middle shines as brightly as ever, it almost feels like it’s radiating warmth.
You sit up on your bed, contemplating your next move. Before you know it, you’re out the door, a plan forming itself in your head. The one thing, or rather person, that you need to make it work is Nightingale.
After what feels like forever, you finally catch her in a corridor. Thankfully she’s alone.
“Urm, Madam Nightingale.” You say.
Nightingale pauses, her eyes catching yours. She tilts her chin upward, gesturing to you to continue.
You take a deep breath, “I think that I’m ready.”
“For?”
“Whatever treatment you have in mind, for me. I think that I’m ready to take that step.”
Nightingale raises her brows, astonished. She approaches you, her heels echoing across the walls. She stops right in front of you, her wand below your chin, raising it up to meet her eyes once more.
“What brought this on?”
You toy with your bracelet, lifting your wrist so that she can see it.
“For the longest time, I thought that I could never move on from my fathers passing because I never had a chance to say goodbye to him. I didn’t have anything to remember him by, and I felt lost because of it.”
Nightingale hums, stepping back to observe you.
“I’ve been wearing this bracelet for as long as I can remember. My father was so adamant that I wear it, and I never understood why. But now when I look at it, I think of him. His love for me and my family. I never got to say goodbye, but he never really left me, in a spiritual sense.”
You look at the bracelet, smiling. The stone sparkles, as though it’s returning your affection.
“I think that my dad would be impressed at what I’ve made of myself, a good wizard and friend. I don’t want to stay in a slump forever.”
“Very well then, I suppose that we should waste a single second. Classes resume in a week. I assume you’ll be taking apparition classes, you’ll need to be at full focus for them. Not to mention the second challenge of the tournament.” Nightingale turns around and begins to walk away, you trudge along, listening to her list of demands.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
The next day, you spend your time with Nightingale from dawn till dusk. She wasn’t joking when she said that she wasn’t going to waste a single second. When she finally did let you go, exhaustion was pulling at your limbs once more. You got odd stares from students who watched you practically sleepwalk through the halls, but it didn’t matter.
While walking, you catch a glimpse of Tom who seems to be walking in your direction.
“Tom.” you say, a hint of surprise in your voice.
“Oh, it’s you. I see that you managed to get out of the Slytherin dorms rather easily.” Tom crosses his arms, looking displeased.
“Were you expecting me to get caught?”
“No, I just hoped that you would have told me before you left. It would have made things much easier.”
“Easier in what way? I let you sleep, I’d think that you would be happy about that.”
“That’s not what I’m referring to. My problem is that I have two first years who think that the Slytherin dungeons are haunted because the main door opened on its own.”
You gasp, but quickly laugh at the realization that he’s talking about the two students you saw in the common room before you left.
“My apologies, I never expected them to be scared. They do know that there are actual ghosts in the castle right?”
“Of course they know, but ghosts don’t use doors. Ugh, I don’t even know why I’m talking about this with you.” Tom runs his hand through his hair in frustration, mumbling something that's incoherent.
“Well next time I’ll let you escort me out, if that’s what you wish.”
“Next time-?” Tom says, but before he could finish you cut him off.
“Besides that, I actually want to thank you for last night.”
“What for?”
“For your unorthodox way of comforting me. And for what you said about my father. I think that was the final push I needed to get help.”
“Help? What kind of help?”
“Dumbledore’s brought in this wizard healer, and she’s going to help me sort things out. I told her about everything, even our trip to the past.”
Tom’s eyes grow as wide as saucers, but before he could interject, you cover his mouth with your hand.
“I’m aware that you want to keep your record clean, but she’s sworn to secrecy. She won’t tell anyone.”
Tom rolls his eyes, brushing your hand away.
“And how can I be so sure that she’ll actually do it?” He asks.
“By trusting me.”
“Oh please-”
“Just trust me. She’s here to help, not to hurt. I promise.”
Tom exhales heavily, his foot tapping on the ground rapidly.
“Suit yourself.” He says.
There’s a brief pause between the two of you. Everything seems so still, as if you’ve been turned into stone. You think for a moment, a smile spreading across your face as you step closer to him. Raising your arms, you wrap them around his neck, embracing him. You feel him tense up in your arms.
“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice in a panic. He steps back, expecting you to let go, but you hold on tightly.
“This is how you give a real hug, for your information,” You close the gap again, “It’s okay to hug me back.”
Tom hesitates, his arms feel like blocks of lead that are weighing him down. Affection, something he’s not used to, and he thinks that he’ll never be used to. Despite this, he moves his arms up, resting his hands on your back.
“There we go, glad we both learned something today.” You finally move back, your hands resting on his arms.
“This is nothing to be happy about, it’s a hug, not an award.” Tom says.
“You say that, but your hug last night was a sad one. I think you should go practice with one of your friends, or a pillow, whichever suits your fancy.” You break free from his grasp, not noticing how his fingers reach out for you.
“A lot of good that will do.” Tom rolls his eyes, crossing his arms again.
“I was just joking. I’ll leave you to resume whatever you were doing. Bye Tom.” You continue to walk in the direction you originally were, leaving Tom behind.
He remains in his spot, not even turning around to catch a glimpse of you walking away. He places a hand against his chest, feeling his heart beat. He felt yours when you were giving him a hug. No one's ever been that close enough to where he could feel their heart beat.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
A week has passed, and you’re not sure if you should be thankful or not that classes are resuming. Nightingale had you on a leash for the remainder of the break, and she was sure to tell you that just because classes would be starting again, that doesn’t mean you were exempt from her treatment sessions.
Dumbledore on the other hand could tell the difference that working with Nightingale has done for your health overall. He even considered talking to Dippet about making her a permanent staff member, but that was a conversation for another day.
Once classes started again, you were whisked away by your studies, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about the next big thing you were going to have to face. The next challenge of the Triwizard Tournament. Every time you think about it, you just remember how exhausted you were for the first challenge.
Your absent mindedness didn’t go unnoticed by Nightingale. It's as though she can see into your soul.
Alertness, that’s what she preached. Especially when you began your apparition classes.
“If you continue to be distracted, you will undoubtedly hurt yourself.”
You sigh. She’s going off on one of her lectures again. You know she’s right, the other professors have already talked about the dangers of apparating without focus. Splinching, that’s what happens. Just hearing about losing a limb makes chills go down your spine.
“I apologize for my lack of concentration, but I’m just worried about my next task. The last one was hard enough, I fear that they’re just going to get more difficult.”
“Nothing in life is easy, but that doesn’t mean you need to take everything on at once. What did we talk about?” Nightingale taps her foot, waiting for you to answer.
“Do things step by step, not leap by leap.”
“Very good, so don’t fret about the next task. If you lose, it’s not the end of the world.”
Oh, but it may as well be. Tom still knows about Melissa and Corrin’s relationship. That’s another thing that frustrates you, he’s so inconsistent with the way he interacts with you. One minute he’s nice, the other he’s an absolute dick. It’s like he’s two different people.
You’re keeping his knowledge of the relationship a secret for now, there’s no need to make Melissa panic when nothing has even happened. You even consider using a memory erasing spell on Tom, but that’s too risky. Besides, he’s always on alert nowadays, and not to mention he’s surrounded by those troglodytes he calls friends.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
Winter speeds on by, and before you know it, the second challenge of the tournament is upon you. It’s the same process as last time. You say bye to your friends before Dippet whisks you and the other contestants off to an unknown location. This time, it’s not as scenic as the previous challenge.
When you’re finally able to take in your surroundings, you realize that you’re in a dark forest. Suddenly, a voice rings through your head.
“Welcome contestants to the second challenge of the Triwizard Tournament. I’m Natasha Grayman, and I’ll be instructing you on the rules of the challenge.”
Oh yeah, you remember Natasha. She was there for the first challenge.
“Your arena this time is a dark forest that’s been carefully crafted to challenge you to your very wits. The goal of this round is to obtain the orb of power.”
A blue flaming orb appears in front of you, and within a second it flies in the opposite direction.
“Each one of you has a designated color orb that you will need to get in order to secure victory, but do not think that it’s that simple. The orb will detect your presence and move, so you’ll have to figure out creative ways to get near it. I will also mention that there are creatures lurking in the shadows, waiting for you to make yourselves known. I’d be careful, some of them can smell blood from miles away. Best of luck to you.”
Of course they would craft a dark forest full of deadly creatures. It’s so cliche that you can laugh. You hear the countdown and then the buzzer, it's game time. Immediately, you start to run in the direction that your orb flew.
Blue, blue, just look for a blue orb.
Easier said than done, your eyes still aren’t fully adjusted to the darkness. If not the wild creatures, tripping over all the vines and branches would definitely kill you.
Every once in a while, you do encounter one of the monsters that was mentioned. Nothing a few fireballs couldn’t handle, but at some point, you began to grow tired. The orb was nowhere in sight, and you were sure that you were going in the right direction.
You stop to rest near a big tree, formulating a new plan. There’s no point in running around in circles, you have to think better. In the midst of your brainstorming, you hear a twig snap behind you. Whipping your head around, you’re face to face with a wand.
“Well if it isn’t the girl from Hogwarts.”
You can’t see the face, but just by the voice you know it’s Vadim from Koldovstoretz. You attempt to grab your wand that’s resting in your pocket, but he seems to take notice.
“Move another inch, and I’ll blast you to smithereens.”
You freeze. He’s not exactly the type of person to bluff, he’s just that crazy.
“Aren’t you supposed to be finding your orb?” You ask.
“I was, until I encountered you.”
“Then please be my guest, continue.” You try to get up, but it seems that he holds true to his word.
Within a second, you’re blasted with an unknown spell and thrown backward. Pain radiates through your body as you try to collect yourself. It feels like you’ve had the air expelled from your lungs.
Grabbing your wand, you cast expelliarmus, but he dodges it. He raises his wand, about to cast another spell, but you cast a shield before it can hit you directly. Unfortunately, it still knocks you back. You get up again, heaving.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than chase me around?” You yell.
“The less competitors, the more my chances at victory increase.”
“Oh, so you’re just compensating for your weakness?”
He didn’t like that, a clear insult to his magical abilities. He casts another spell, and you counter it, but the spells just keep coming. Eventually, you get overwhelmed. There’s no way you’re going to find the orb if he’s standing in your way. Drastic times call for drastic measures.
“Bombarda!” you point your wand at him, a powerful blast knocking him back.
Taking the opportunity, you run as fast as you can. Unfortunately, Vadim has the endurance of a beast. He gets back on his feet fast, running after you.
Random spells are shot at you from behind, which you narrowly dodge. There’s a shooting pain in your leg, which is slowing you down. You stagger a bit, slowing your pace.
“Think, y/n, think.” you say to yourself, trying to figure out a way to get away from him.
The sound of footsteps gets closer, and you panic. He’s not going to stop until you’re incapacitated. Suddenly, an idea comes to mind. It’s only been a few weeks, but you think you might be able to do it, apparition.
Focus, that’s all you need to do. You think of an area that you’ve already been to, but your thoughts are interrupted when you hear his voice.
“You lousy bitch, I’ll teach you not to mess with me-”
An unknown spell is shot your way. You close your eyes again, trying to concentrate. Within a second, it feels like you’re being pulled in all directions, and then you land on something solid. It takes you a second to realize that you’ve switched locations, but once you come to your senses, you feel a stinging pain in your arm.
You look at your hand, and it’s covered in blood. Taking off your jacket, you inspect your arm, and there's a deep gash running down your upper arm. The sight of the blood makes your head spin. You just splinched yourself. An agonizing groan leaves your throat as you reach for your wand.
“Episkey!” you point your wand to the wound, but it barely does a thing.
Tears flood your eyes as the pain increases. It was hard to concentrate before, but it’s near impossible now. In the midst of your frustration and pain, you hear a distant screech. It’s loud and eerie. Natasha mentioned there being creatures that can smell blood from a distance.
Your breath starts to hitch as the noise gets closer. Grabbing your wand again, you ready yourself for something to appear out of the trees, but nothing comes. Instead, the sounds begin to surround you, as if there’s something invisible flying around you. You cast a spell into one of the trees, but the sound remains.
Your eyes shake as you try to make sense of it all. The loud screeches just seem to increase until you feel a bite in your arm. You scream in pain, trying to check what it is. Attached to your arm is what looks like a small bat-like creature. Within seconds, there's a swarm. You crouch down, covering your face. They scratch and bite any inch of skin they can find.
It gets to a point where you feel like you’re going to be eaten alive. Your hands reach into the ground beneath you, clawing at the dirt. Inhaling, you feel a surge of energy going through you. There’s a glow coming from your bracelet, it feels like it’s burning through your skin. You let out a loud scream, and everything turns white.
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