He was 21 the first time he met her.
He knocked her over in the streets of Albania on a busy afternoon and barely mumbled an apology as he hurried along.
He should have paid attention.
Maybe then, things would not have turned out the way they did. If he had turned around, he would have noticed that the old hag had sharp eyes and that her honey gaze was staring coolly into his back as he disappeared down the street.
He thinks about this day a lot and wonders how things may have played out if he did anything else but walk away.
She had trailed him afterwards and he faults the fact that he didn’t notice her because of his excitement. He was careless and sloppy because, after so many years of trying to find the exact location of the Ravenclaw Diadem, he finally figured it out and would soon have it within his grasp. That’s why didn’t notice her following him all the way to the forest.
When he got to the hollow tree that the lost relic was suppose to be in, he blasted it apart, too impatient to get to the diadem. He stretched out his arm to catch it as it came hurtling towards him and a satisfactory smile graced his face.
His triumph was short-lived and a second later, he was immobilized.
He was frozen in place and in that instant, he felt a forceful aura beating against his own, preventing him from nullifying whatever charm held him in place.
He watched as the old hag that he knocked over transformed into a young witch around his age with riotous curls and calculating eyes. An innocent smile pulled at her full lips as she delicately plucked the artifact from his outstretched hands.
“Hello, Mister Riddle. Thank you for locating this for me. Goodbye, now!”
Tom struggled against the enchantment that the witch had placed upon him. For the first time in a long time, Tom felt helpless as her magic pinned him in place and he was unable to snatch back the diadem out of her small hands. He was unable to do anything but blink and breath as her saccharine smile turned into something akin to pity. With a loud pop that made his eardrums ring, she disappeared, Ravenclaw’s Diadem in tow.
A gnawing feeling ate at his chest as he realized that he had been duped and some unknown witch had stolen from him.
Tom’s magic pounded against the enchantment, roiling around him as he tried desperately to break free, track down the witch, and kill her, making her the necessary sacrifice to create his newest Horcrux. The setting sun made him even more determined and he put in more effort, sweat rolling down his forehead and back. The pulsating energy of his magic was thudding and resonating in his bones as he fought against such a simple spell.
The sound of his blood rushed loudly through his ears and he felt a modicum of relief as his fingers twitched.
Tom keeled over and panted harshly as reality settled in. A powerful and mysterious witch, who knew who he was, stole from him. He had no idea who she was. He closed his eyes and attempted to recall details that could help him identify the witch.
A cold feeling spread from Tom’s chest as he realized that he could not remember a single detail about the witch – not her voice nor how she looked. All he could remember was the way her magic washed over him like a wave, pulling him into the currents and drowning him with it.
He never forgot the incident, but with no recollection as to who the witch was, he was unable to track her down.
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