The peaceful silence of the Slytherin dormitory was shattered by a hysterical cry. My eyes snapped open, and for a moment, I thought I might still be dreaming. But the shrill sound persisted, echoing through the stone walls.
"Carina, wake up," Alexie groaned from her bed, rubbing her eyes. "What is that?"
Still groggy, I sat up and turned toward the source of the commotion. Walburga was standing in front of her vanity, her reflection illuminated by the soft green glow of the enchanted lamps. Her face was a sight to behold—completely covered in angry, swollen boils that marred her once-pristine complexion.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," I muttered, pushing my hair out of my face. Alexie sat up beside me, her wide eyes fixed on Walburga in shock.
Walburga turned to us, her face twisted in a mix of rage and desperation. "This… This is YOUR fault!" she screamed, pointing a trembling finger at me.
I blinked, genuinely baffled. "My fault?" I asked, my voice flat. "Do I look like I've had time to hex someone this early in the morning?"
"You did something!" she shrieked, her hands shaking as she gestured wildly at her face. "You've cursed me, you jealous—!"
"Jealous?" I cut her off, standing up and crossing my arms. "Of what, exactly? Your sunny disposition?"
Her eyes blazed with fury, but I ignored her, brushing off her accusations with a dismissive wave. Then it hit me. The protection spell I'd cast around my bed last night.
I smirked, the realization dawning on me. She'd tried to hex me in my sleep, and my spell had bounced her curse right back at her. The irony was delicious.
"Well, Walburga," I said sweetly, stepping closer to her. "Here's a tip for next time—think before you try to hex someone in their sleep. Not everyone's as defenseless as you'd like to think."
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unable to form a coherent response. I turned back toward my bed and began getting ready for the day, completely unbothered by her continued wails.
Alexie leaned over as I brushed my hair. "What exactly happened?" she whispered.
I shrugged nonchalantly. "She tried to curse me, and it rebounded. My protective enchantments are quite thorough."
Alexie bit her lip, clearly fighting back a laugh. "That's brilliant."
I glanced over my shoulder at Walburga, who was now sitting on the floor, sobbing as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her boils looked even worse up close, red and oozing in some places.
"Honestly," I muttered, slipping on my robes. "She did it to herself. I don't feel an ounce of sympathy."
Alexie nodded in agreement, and we both decided it was best to leave her to her misery.
After leaving the dormitory, I descended the stairs into the Slytherin common room, my mood already soured by Walburga's theatrics. The room was bathed in the soft green glow of the enchanted windows, and the usual crowd of early risers lingered on the dark leather couches or near the fireplace.
At the center of the room, my brother Abraxas stood with Reinhardt Lestrange, Elliot Rosier, Thomas Avery, and Theodore Nott. They were engaged in their usual banter, the kind that spoke of privilege and pureblood pride. And in the middle of the group, naturally commanding attention, was Tom Riddle.
Tom leaned casually against the fireplace mantle, his dark hair perfectly in place and his posture effortlessly composed. The firelight danced in his gray eyes, highlighting the sharp angles of his handsome face. He glanced up as I entered, his gaze locking with mine for a fleeting moment before shifting to Abraxas. I swore I saw the faintest smirk on his lips.
"Carina," Abraxas called, his tone laced with concern. "What was all that shouting coming from your dormitory? The whole common room heard Walburga."
A few lingering students perked up, their ears clearly straining to catch my response. I sighed inwardly, glancing around at the nosy audience. My patience was already running thin.
"She cursed herself," I said flatly, waving a dismissive hand.
Abraxas raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. "Cursed herself? Did you—" He paused, lowering his voice slightly. "Did you reverse her curse?"
I shot him a withering look. "Do I look like an angel to you, Abraxas?" I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "I don't have time for her nonsense."
Reinhardt Lestrange, always one to pry, leaned in with a curious smirk. "What exactly happened to her, then?"
Before I could respond, Alexie, who had followed me down, chimed in. "She's covered in boils—her face, her neck, everywhere."
Reinhardt's smirk faltered slightly, and the other boys exchanged amused glances. Abraxas pressed his lips together, clearly trying to stifle a laugh, while Nott and Avery failed miserably, their snickers echoing softly in the room.
I turned my gaze to Reinhardt, smiling sweetly. "If you're feeling so charitable, why don't you take her to the hospital wing?" My voice was laced with annoyance, the irritation evident despite my saccharine tone. "I'm frankly too tired of her screaming to deal with it."
Reinhardt's eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard by my pointed suggestion, and the others didn't bother hiding their amusement. Rosier covered his mouth to mask his laughter, while Abraxas shook his head, muttering something about me being impossible.
Tom, however, remained composed. Pushing off the mantle, he crossed the room with that same fluid grace, his presence commanding attention without a word. He stopped beside Reinhardt, his expression calm yet unyielding.
"Lestrange," Tom said smoothly, his deep, silken voice cutting through the murmurs. "You'll take Walburga to the hospital wing."
Reinhardt's jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Tom's gaze silenced him. It wasn't forceful, but there was an authority in his tone that left no room for argument.
Rosier, Nott, Avery, and even Abraxas exchanged amused glances, clearly entertained by Lestrange's predicament. Reinhardt muttered something under his breath before storming off toward the dormitory, grumbling about how "this wasn't his problem."
Tom turned back to me, his gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. "Now that the matter is resolved," he said, his voice low and smooth, "shall we go to class?"
His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—amusement, maybe, or curiosity. My lips twitched into a smirk. "Of course," I replied, meeting his gaze with equal boldness.
I stepped forward, falling into stride beside him. Behind us, Alexie and the others quickly followed, though I could feel their eyes darting between Tom and me. Their composed facades couldn't entirely hide their intrigue at the interaction.
he Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with anticipation as students from both Slytherin and Gryffindor settled into their seats. The torches lining the walls flickered, casting long shadows across the room, and Professor Merrythought stood at the front, her sharp eyes scanning the class.
I was about to take my usual seat beside Alexie when I felt someone grab my hand. Turning, I raised an eyebrow, my expression questioning. It was Tom.
"What?" I asked, the corner of my mouth curving upward in amusement.
"You should sit with me," he said smoothly, his tone leaving little room for argument.
Abraxas, sitting nearby, glanced at Tom with confusion, his brows furrowing. Reinhardt Lestrange and Elliot Rosier exchanged knowing smirks, clearly entertained by Tom's unusual suggestion. Even Alexie seemed surprised, her mouth slightly open as she tried to process what was happening.
"Why?" I asked, my voice light but laced with curiosity.
Tom's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You've missed a few lessons. It would be beneficial to sit beside someone who can explain them."
Alexie, still recovering from her surprise, nodded in agreement. "He has a point. You're behind on a few concepts."
I turned back to Tom, my eyes narrowing slightly as I studied him. He held my gaze, his expression calm yet confident. With a shrug and a mischievous twinkle in my eye, I took the seat beside him.
Professor Merrythought clapped her hands, drawing the class's attention. "Today, we'll practice dueling," she announced, her voice carrying easily over the murmurs. "I'll be selecting pairs to demonstrate proper technique."
A ripple of excitement passed through the room. Gryffindor and Slytherin students exchanged glances, their competitive spirits ignited.
Professor Merrythought's sharp gaze swept over the class before landing on me. "You—Carina Malfoy, correct?"
"Yes, Professor," I replied, standing with a calm smile.
"And you," she said, locking eyes with Tom. "Mr. Riddle. Both of you, to the dueling stage."
The room fell silent, the tension thick. My brother Abraxas frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Alexie looked worried, her lips pressing into a thin line.
I glanced at Tom and smirked. "Would you look at that."
Tom stepped forward, his posture as composed as ever. As he passed me, he leaned slightly closer, his voice low and teasing. "Another bet,? Same rule winner claims a favor."
I raised an eyebrow, my smirk widening. "You're on."
We ascended the steps to the dueling stage, taking our positions on opposite ends. The class watched intently, whispers spreading like wildfire. Gryffindor students and Slytherins were clearly enjoying it.
Professor Merrythought raised her wand. "Bow to your opponent."
Tom and I bowed, our eyes never leaving each other. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glint of amusement in his gaze.
"Begin!"
Tom struck first, his wand moving in a blur as he cast Expelliarmus. I raised my wand instantly, casting Protego and deflecting the spell. The Gryffindors gasped, while the Slytherins cheered softly.
The duel escalated quickly. Tom fired off a series of spells, each more challenging than the last. I countered with precision, my reflexes sharp as I dodged, blocked, and retaliated. The air crackled with magic, our spells colliding mid-air in bursts of light.
"Stupefy!" Tom called, his voice steady.
I sidestepped, aiming a Rictusempra in return. He blocked it effortlessly, his lips curving into a faint smirk.
The room was electric, students whispering in awe as the duel became more intense. Abraxas sat rigidly, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of his desk. Alexie looked pale, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
Tom's movements were precise, calculated, each spell flowing seamlessly into the next. But I wasn't far behind. My wand moved with practiced ease, and I could feel the adrenaline surging through me.
"Getting tired yet?" Tom asked, his tone calm but teasing.
I smiled seductively, lowering my wand slightly. "A little," I said, my voice light but deliberate. "Maybe I'll just let you win."
Tom's eyes narrowed, his focus unwavering.
I lowered my wand fully, raising my hands in mock surrender. "I yield."
The room fell silent, everyone staring in stunned disbelief. Professor Merrythought stepped forward, her expression one of approval mixed with curiosity. "Mr. Riddle wins," she declared, her voice cutting through the whispers.
Tom didn't celebrate. Instead, he looked at me as I walked back to my seat, annoyance flickering across his usually composed face. I settled in, meeting his gaze with a knowing smirk.
As he returned to his own seat, I could see the tension in his jaw. He wasn't used to victories feeling hollow, and I had clearly struck a nerve.
"Interesting tactic," he said quietly as he seat beside me, his tone measured but laced with irritation.
I leaned back in my chair, twirling my wand between my fingers. "A win's a win, isn't it?" I replied, my smile never faltering.