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Chapter 9 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
The duel ended in a moment that felt like it stretched on forever, the tension thick in the air.
My breath came in ragged gasps, my wand hand trembling slightly as I tried to steady myself. I could feel the weight of his eyes on me—cold, calculating, waiting. He was always waiting, as if he knew something I didn't, as if he was playing a game only he understood.
"Is that all you've got?" Tom's voice was smooth, almost disinterested, as if our duel was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
He tilted his head slightly, the familiar smirk playing on his lips—a smirk that always felt like it was mocking me, daring me to prove him wrong.
The taunt stung, fueling the fire of anger that burned in my chest. I knew what he was doing—he wanted me to lose control, to lash out recklessly so he could show everyone just how much better he was. But I refused to give him the satisfaction. Not again.
I tightened my grip on my wand, determination hardening my resolve. "I'm just getting started," I shot back, my voice steadier than I felt.
His smirk widened, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Very well," he murmured, and before I could react, he flicked his wand in a sharp, almost dismissive motion.
"Levicorpus!"
The spell hit me with a force that knocked the breath out of me.
My body jerked upwards, and suddenly, I was suspended in the air by my ankle, my robes hanging down and my wand slipping from my grasp.
A collective gasp echoed around the room as the students watched, their eyes wide with a mix of shock and something close to awe.
I struggled to regain my composure, trying to ignore the blood rushing to my head as I dangled helplessly.
My hands clawed at the empty air, searching for something—anything—to hold onto, but there was nothing. Nothing except the cold, unblinking gaze of Tom Riddle.
He watched me with an expression of mild interest, as if I were a particularly fascinating creature he had found in the dirt.
"It seems you're out of your depth," he said softly, his voice carrying easily in the now silent room.
My cheeks burned with humiliation, but I refused to let him see how much it affected me. I tried to reach for my wand, which had clattered to the floor, but it was hopeless—it was too far away. And he knew it.
Before I could sink further into despair, Professor Merrythought's voice cut through the tension. "Enough, Mr. Riddle," she said firmly, though there was an unmistakable note of approval in her tone. "Release her."
Tom's eyes flicked to the professor, and for a moment, I thought he might defy her. But then, with a casual wave of his wand, he released the spell.
I fell to the ground in a heap, barely managing to catch myself before I hit the cold stone floor.
My head spun, the blood rushing back to my body as I scrambled to my feet, desperate to regain some semblance of dignity. My hand shot out, grabbing my wand and clutching it tightly, as if it were the only thing tethering me to reality.
Tom was already lowering his wand, his expression once again a mask of indifference.
He turned away from me as if I were no longer worth his time, his attention now focused on the professor. The duel was over, and I had lost—not just in the physical sense, but in every way that mattered.
Professor Merrythought clapped her hands, signaling the end of the duel. "Well done, both of you," she said, though her eyes lingered on Tom with a kind of reserved approval. "Duels are about control and precision, and you both demonstrated that today."
Her words barely registered, my mind still reeling from the humiliation. I could feel the stares of the other students, their whispers buzzing in my ears like a swarm of angry bees.
They were talking about me, about how easily I had been defeated, how effortlessly Tom had bested me.
But as much as I wanted to disappear, to crawl into a hole and hide from the world, I forced myself to stand tall. I wouldn't let them see how much it hurt, how deeply it cut to know that Tom had won—not just the duel, but the war between us.
As the class began to disperse, I caught sight of Minerva and Hagrid, both of them watching me with concern. Minerva's brow was furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line, while Hagrid looked as though he wanted to come over and comfort me but wasn't sure how.
I gave them a weak smile, trying to reassure them that I was okay, even though I felt anything but. A part of me knew I should go over to them and allow them to comfort me but I needed to get out of there, to be alone with my thoughts before they consumed me.
But before I could make my escape, I felt a presence behind me, a shadow that seemed to loom over me like a storm cloud.
"Don't take it too personally," Tom's voice was a low murmur, meant only for me. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. "You did better than I expected."
I turned to face him, my eyes meeting his with a defiant glare. "I don't need your pity," I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.
Tom's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or maybe even something darker.
"Pity?" he repeated, his tone almost contemplative. "No, I don't waste my pity on anyone. You should take this as... a lesson. There are battles you simply cannot win."
I clenched my jaw, biting back the retort that burned on the tip of my tongue. I refused to play his game, to let him get under my skin any more than he already had.
"Stay out of my way, Riddle," I said finally, my voice low and cold.
For a moment, I thought I saw a shadow of something in his expression—a flash of anger, perhaps, or maybe disappointment. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that infuriatingly calm demeanor.
He stepped back, giving me a small, almost mocking bow.
"As you wish," he said, his voice smooth as silk, yet dripping with an insincerity that sent a chill down my spine. "But remember this—you can't escape me. Not here, not anywhere. You'll find that out soon enough."
With that, he turned and walked away, taking long strides, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding in my chest. His group of 'friends' followed behind who were waiting for him.
His words echoed in my mind, a dark promise that lingered long after he had disappeared from sight.
I watched him go, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I had lost the duel, but I hadn't lost my resolve. If Tom Riddle thought he could break me, he was wrong.
Losing a duel Isn't going to break me, rather it has fueled me to beat him on the next one.
Next time I wouldn't let him humiliate me.
I will surely turn the tables, and let him get a taste of failure for once.
I wouldn't let him win. Not then. Not ever from now.