───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──
Chapter 12 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft, dappled shadows across the Gryffindor common room. I was sitting by the fire, nursing a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. Minerva was perched on the arm of the chair opposite me, her brow furrowed in concern, while Hagrid loomed nearby, his large hands twisting nervously in front of him.
"Ye had us worried sick, yeh know that?" Hagrid rumbled, his voice full of concern. "When yeh didn't come back last night, we didn't know what ter think!"
Minerva nodded, her eyes sharp as they scanned my face for any signs of distress. "You could have at least sent word," she added, her tone a mix of reproach and worry. "What were you doing in the library all night?"
I offered them a small, weary smile, hoping to ease their concern. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, looking down at my hands. "I just needed some time alone. After everything that happened yesterday..."
Minerva's expression softened, and she reached out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "We understand," she said gently. "But you don't have to face things alone. We're here for you."
Hagrid nodded in agreement, his bushy eyebrows knitting together as he looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and concern. "Aye, yeh can always come to us if yeh need to talk, yeh know that."
I nodded, grateful for their concern but feeling a deep exhaustion settling in my bones. The events of the previous night weighed heavily on my mind, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the memory of Tom Riddle's dark, piercing gaze or the way his presence had seemed to suffocate me.
"I know," I replied, forcing a smile. "Thank you, both of you."
Minerva's eyes narrowed slightly as if she sensed there was more I wasn't telling them, but she didn't press further. Instead, she gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before standing up. "Try to get some rest," she advised. "You've had a rough day."
Hagrid nodded in agreement, his large hand coming down gently to ruffle my hair. "Aye, and don't let those gossips get ter yeh. Yer stronger than any of 'em."
With that, they left me alone by the fire, their footsteps fading away as they exited the common room. I sighed and leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes as the warmth from the fire washed over me.
But rest wouldn't come. My thoughts were a tangled mess of confusion and frustration, with Tom Riddle's face at the center of it all. The way he had looked at me, the way he had spoken to me—it was as if he had seen right through me, down to the very core of my being, and I hated that he had that power over me.
And yet... there was something about him that I couldn't ignore, no matter how hard I tried. A magnetic pull that drew me in, even as I tried to push him away.
I shook my head, trying to banish the thought, but it lingered like a dark cloud, refusing to dissipate. I needed to focus, to regain control of my own thoughts, but it felt like an impossible task with Tom Riddle haunting my every waking moment.
------------------------------------------------------------
Whispers and stares followed me everywhere I went that day. I could feel the weight of them pressing down on me as I walked through the corridors, the hushed voices just loud enough to catch snippets of the cruel things being said.
"Did you hear what happened during the duel yesterday?"
"I heard she lost...but stood her ground till the end"
"A Mudblood like her could never stand up to a Slytherin."
"C'mon, It's tom riddle we are talking about, obviously he won."
"hey, isn't she the griffindor girl who didn't even flinch when the slytherin perfect aimed at her in the duel?"
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to keep walking, to ignore the malicious, snarky whispers and the judgmental stares. They were just words, just opinions from people who didn't know me, who didn't matter.
But it still hurt.
I made my way to the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping to lose myself in the crowd and forget about everything for a little while. But as soon as I stepped through the doors, I felt his presence, a dark and oppressive force that seemed to draw all the light out of the room.
Tom Riddle was sitting at the Slytherin table, his back to me, but I could still feel his gaze, as if he knew I was there the moment I walked in. His "friends" were clustered around him, all of them laughing and talking as if the world was theirs for the taking.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to walk to the Gryffindor table, where Minerva was already seated, talking quietly with a few other students. But I couldn't shake the feeling of Tom's eyes on me, even though he never once turned to look in my direction.
"Are you okay?" Minerva asked, glancing up at me as I sat down beside her.
"I'm fine," I replied, reaching for a piece of toast. "Just tired."
She gave me a sympathetic look but didn't press further, for which I was grateful.
Though as much as I wanted to share my unexpected encounter's outcome with riddle last night, I wasn't in the mood to talk about it, to analyze my own feelings when I barely understood them myself.
Even if It'd help a lot, to share the burden, I still didn't want to recall last night's events.
But as I ate, I couldn't help but notice the way the room seemed to revolve around Tom Riddle.
The way people glanced in his direction, the way they whispered about him, even from across the hall. It was as if he held some kind of power over them, a power that was both alluring and terrifying.
And then, as if sensing my thoughts, Tom turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering over to meet mine from across the room. The brief connection was enough to send a shiver down my spine, and I quickly looked away, my heart pounding in my chest.
I could still feel his gaze on me, burning like a brand, as if he was marking me as his next prey , even from a distance.
-----------------------------------------------------
As the day wore on, whispers and sideways glances followed me through the corridors. I could feel the weight of their stares, the hushed comments that trailed in my wake.
The gossip about the duel had spread like wildfire, and it seemed everyone had something to say about it.
I tried to block them out, focusing on my classes instead.
Potions was first, a subject I usually excelled in. Today, though, my concentration wavered, my thoughts drifting around to the gossip whispers and...tom.
I mentally scolded myself for again pondering about him as the class ended. Utterly clueless about today's class works, much thanks to my over active mind, I make a mental note of asking minerva about it later on.
-------------------------------------------------------
Later that afternoon, as I made my way to Transfiguration, I was intercepted by none other than Abraxas Malfoy, a slytherin who shared same believes as Tom .
He was leaning against the wall near the entrance to the classroom, his arms crossed over his chest, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.
Abraxas was tall and lean, with pale blond hair that fell just above his shoulders, always immaculately styled. His features were sharp, almost aristocratic, with a pointed chin and high cheekbones. His gray eyes were cold and calculating, always seeming to assess those around him with a mixture of disdain and amusement.
"Well, if it isn't the Mudblood everyone's been talking about," he drawled, pushing himself off the wall as I approached. "You've certainly made quite a name for yourself, haven't you?"
I clenched my jaw, refusing to rise to his bait. "What do you want, Malfoy?" I asked, my tone cold as I met his gaze.
He chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Relax, I'm just curious. It's not every day someone like you catches the attention of Tom Riddle."
My stomach twisted at his words, but I kept my expression neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb," he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Everyone's talking about it. Riddle letting you off the hook like that? It's got people wondering what makes you so special."
"There's nothing special about me," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "So, if you're done wasting my time, I have a class to attend."
I moved to push past him, but he stepped in front of me, his smirk widening. "Touchy, aren't we? Don't worry, I'm not here to fight. I'm just... curious. Riddle doesn't usually take an interest in anyone. But you... you've piqued his interest. I wonder why."
His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to let him see how much they rattled me. "Stop spouting such bizzare things, Or I'd assume you're just looking for some bloody attention." I shot back, my tone biting.
For a moment, Abraxas just stared at me, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to figure me out. Then, to my surprise, he laughed—a short, sharp bark of amusement. "I like you," he said, almost as if he were surprised by his own words. "You've got spirit."
I didn't respond, my eyes locked on his as I waited for him to move. After a moment, he stepped aside, his smirk still firmly in place. "See you around, Mudblood," he called after me as I walked away, his tone mocking.
I didn't look back, but the encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth. Abraxas Malfoy was trouble, of that I was certain. But his interest in me was troubling for an entirely different reason. If he was intrigued by whatever he thought was going on between me and Tom Riddle, it could only mean more problems down the line.