(00 : HE'S GOT MY PAST
FROZEN BEHIND GLASS)

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     SHE WAS DOODLING TINY HEARTS, stars and 'Persephone Riddle' on the front of her notebook when she first heard the news. In her surprise, she forgot to move her quill and before she knew it, the black ink was bleeding through most of her class notes. Headmaster Dippet was still talking, but she failed to hear a single word. It all felt surreal — the speculative chatter of the Great Hall was muffled, which made Persephone feel like she was under water. Myrtle Warren was dead, and the last thing she had ever told her best friend was how much she hated her.

     "He's using you!" was what Myrtle had exclaimed during one of their scheduled study sessions. Although Persephone was the oldest of the two by some years, she was incredibly naive and far too trusting in comparison to the eternally pessimistic fourteen year old.

     "He loves me!" Persephone could recall screaming back with equal fervour as she roughly snatched up her books before rising to stand, a practiced sneer on her lips. "And you're only jealous because no boys like you. No wonder you have no friends when you can't even be happy for them. In the end, Myrtle Warren, all you are and you will ever be is a pathetic little loser."

     On the verge of tears, Myrtle had been stunned. "You've changed. Let me help you."

     "Shut up! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Persephone cried out, flinching away when Myrtle tried to gently touch her arm. The Ravenclaw struggled to hide the unadulterated fear on her face. For someone who prized herself on knowing things, she didn't understand where the outburst had come from — the burning anger in her chest was so foreign and visceral. It was as if a pulsing darkness resided beneath her skin, a darkness that wanted to swallow her fragile heart.

     Their argument had only occurred two days ago and Persephone was already regretting her cruel words. After it happened, she had immediately sought refuge in Tom Riddle and cried in his arms whilst he made whispered promises of fixing her broken friendship with the strange Third Year.

     On the whole, her relationship with Tom Riddle was rather complicated. He was attractive and charismatic with his own band of sycophants following his every move whilst she was nobody special, one blue and bronze tie amongst hundreds. And they weren't really in a relationship because Tom didn't like labels, but Persephone knew he loved her. It was Tom who taught her new spells to use against bullies and it was Tom who saw the potential in her that nobody else did, so it must have been love. In a matter of weeks, she went from the resident ugly duckling to a walking goddess — like her namesake from Greek Mythology.

     By the time Persephone found the will to move, most of the Great Hall had emptied. Only a few students lingered and a weight was lifted from her shoulders when she spotted Tom by the Slytherin table, his green and silver prefect badge glinting in the light. He was engaged in a seemingly intense conversation with a platinum-haired boy, but she wasn't deterred. Not thinking twice, she shouldered her school satchel and rushed over to her not-quite-boyfriend for comfort.

      "You really think you can frame the half-breed?" inquired the boy.

     "Of course," scoffed Tom, a note of arrogance in his voice. "I'll be revered, saving the school from closure. Those fools will be none the wiser. To think, they have no clue the Chamber of Secrets is so much more than a childish myth."

     As the two Slytherins laughed heartily, Persephone frowned, having overheard the end of their conversation. Persephone — surprisingly — enjoyed History of Magic and had offered up a fair bit of information on the Chamber of Secrets to Tom, but she was beginning to think that he was unhealthily obsessed with it. Sometimes, it was the only thing he would talk to her about.

Forcing a smile, Persephone entered the conversation without invitation and teased, "You're still on about that snake nonsense? It's been a thousand years, Tom, I somehow doubt a teenage boy will be able to find it."

"Oh, but he already ha—" The boy's words died mid-sentence when Tom sharply elbowed his blonde friend.

     "How much did you hear?" Tom asked, grabbing her arm roughly and tugging her close. Persephone swore his otherwise dark eyes briefly flashed blood red. "I said, how much did you hear?"

     The brunette winced, his nails painfully digging into her skin. "You're hurting me," she whimpered, never having seen Tom as anything but calm and cool. "I heard nothing, I swear. I — I was coming over here to talk about Myrtle. I wanted to know if you heard anything about how she . . ."

     Once again, Tom was free of any emotion, perfectly composed as a blank mask slipped into place. "Rubeus Hagrid has been keeping an acromantula as a pet. Unbelievably irresponsible if you ask me, but I suppose we should not expect anything else from his kind."  His words were dripping with such venom that a chill ran down Persephone's spine. "I intend to inform Headmaster Dippet of my suspicions now. You are welcome to come with me if you would like."

     "Unbelievably irresponsible," she echoed, her brow bunching in deep thought as she accepted the Slytherin's outstretched arm.

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Persephone was uncharacteristically quiet and Tom didn't like it. More often than not, he was irritated by her constant ramblings, but he had come to recognise that her silence was often dangerous. Suddenly he was eager to hear her latest spiel about House Elf rights, even he would grumble and counter argue the entire time. When she really put her mind to it, the sixteen year old was perhaps too smart at times. Like many her age, she was desperate for love and acceptance, but that didn't make her entirely oblivious.

"It doesn't make sense," she said out of the blue as they were passing through the fourth floor. "Acromantulas eat human flesh. Myrtle would've been horribly disfigured if one attacked her. Olive Hornby was the one who found the body and she said —"

Tom didn't like how she was nearly skirting the truth. Whilst he was fairly sure that the girl would've jumped from the Astronomy Tower if he had asked, she was infuriatingly noble and wouldn't agree with murder. In an attempt to distract her, he casually slipped an arm around her waist. Persephone momentarily stiffened before leaning into his touch, a kaleidoscope of overexcited butterflies exploding in chest as the Slytherin smirked.

"And, um, oh, what was I saying?" Persephone fumbled her point, considerably flustered due to the boy's touch. It evoked a feeling that she had never felt before, something hot and tingling in the furthest depths of her stomach. "Um, petrifaction! Yes, I remember now. Haven't you noticed all of the students in the infirmary lately? Acromantulas aren't capable of that. It would have to be something like a cockatrice or a basilisk."

"Just drop it." He halted, something dark hidden in his gaze at his eyes dropped to her parted lips. "For me?"

Persephone's back hit the wall, her heartbeat hammering like a hummingbird's as the Slytherin caged her in with his arms. "I — I wouldn't want us to make a wrong accusation, that's all. It wouldn't be —"

Her reasoning was cut off by a bruising kiss. He pushed his body against hers and she gasped, self-conscious and hesitant as she had never kissed anyone before. A faint dizziness washed over her as the boy controlled the kiss, using her brief shock to slip his tongue in her mouth. Persephone couldn't turn her mind off. Instead of being in the moment, she was only confused. By the time he pulled away, she was breathless and her lips were numb from the pain.

     As if nothing had occurred, Tom straightened his tie and continued on walking. With one hand brushing her swollen lips, Persephone didn't — couldn't — move because it was as if her feet were glued to the floor. Not that she had much to compare it with, but something about the kiss seemed wrong. There was no love there, only unrestrained violence.

"Are you coming?" called Tom, tapping his foot impatiently.

Across from her, there was a large mirror. One glance at her reflection told Persephone everything she needed to know about her relationship with Tom Riddle. The person who stared back at her looked half-dead with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks.

"I need a moment," she whispered, loud enough for him to hear. "I think Myrtle's death has me all out of sorts. I shouldn't have shouted at her, she was only looking out for me."

Affronted, he replied without thinking, "The mudblood was trying to take you away from me."

"That's an awful thing to say." Persephone was baffled by his language because all the teachers loved him, he was polite and not at all like the purebloods that strutted around the castle, hexing anyone they deemed their inferior. Then, she recalled how most of the students in the infirmary were victims to regular attacks from these types. Annabelle Jones, Billy Smith, Louise Harrison — the petrified students were all undoubtedly muggleborn. "You. It's — it's you, isn't it? You found the Chamber and Salazar's basilisk and you k—killed Myrtle."

In response, he chuckled. It was a cold sound that echoed off the castle walls and Persephone suddenly became all too aware that they were alone. "Well, you caught me. Clever Ravenclaw."

"You're insane," she breathed out, her hands trembling as feigned confidence by jutting her chin up and pointing her wand at the prefect's chest. "Professor Dumbledore is far too brilliant to believe your lies. I'll — I'll tell him everything. He will see right through you, Tom."

     "To think you had so much promise as well." Tutting, Tom approached her once more and insisted, "It's not too late. I know you see the corruption within our society too. Everyone overlooks you, dismisses you, and that's not right. But I could make you powerful, so powerful that those same people will rue the day they ever breathed the same air as you. Men will fall at your feet, women will envy your mind and cities will fall at your hand if only you would join me, dearest Persephone."

     Her bottom lip wobbled, but she otherwise remained unwavering. "In your dreams."

     "What a shame." In a blink, Tom had his wand pressed against her neck. "Speculum vehementi."

     A blast of blue magic threw her body backwards so quickly and so viciously that she didn't even have time to scream before she collided with the mirror. And then all was cold, black and empty until thirty two years later. From there on, her life was suddenly infiltrated by warm butterbeer, messy hair and lopsided grins.

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A.N: Oh I'm so excited to start writing this! I can't wait for you all to get to know Persephone — she's very different from Juliet. This book hopefully will be happier too. I hope you all don't judge her too harshly yet because I'm going to make it very clear from the start, her relationship with Tom is/was toxic, manipulative and unhealthy. He can't love and I'm sticking with that. I can't wait for you all to see her grow. The Marauders' Era will commence from next chapter.

Question, who was your first fictional crush?