CHAPTER FOUR

They say that when darkness falls and the hazy light of day disappears on the horizon, it's an opportunity for everything dark and destructive to shine.

The night spread its black veil across the sky and the school fell into complete darkness. Only the faint lights of the school were visible from afar, with the imposing stance of the building resembling a landscape straight out of a fairy tale. Perhaps Hogwarts was a fairy tale.

In fairy tales, there were always those protagonists who fought for noble causes such as freedom and justice, accompanied by courage and tremendous strength against evil forces.

The protagonist of this story, however, is far from that.

Tom Riddle possessed none of that, nor did he believe he should. Everyone was the hero of their own story, the hero of themselves, and the liberator from everything holding them back from becoming what they were truly meant to be.

His steps were light as if someone with feather feet was walking during the night, but it was the appropriate time for him. As a prefect, it was his duty to roam the hallways at night for any misconduct: students who would drink, couples who would sneak out of their rooms at midnight to relive dreamy loves scenes under the moonlight, students who would plan the destruction of the world...

It was easy to deceive an entire school with the thin facade of the student who wanted to excel in everything and all that the more so for an orphan child who has learned from a young age the vices of life. People tended to show special interest in the pain of others as if it had become the only characteristic for someone to be pleasing— to showcase the ugly side of one's reality as if it would add more value to the human psyche than what they already have. It seems that the atrocities of the First World War and even more so of the current war were the stimuli that pushed humanity towards cruelty and insanity.

"Lumos," the tip of his wand lit up and the dusty bookshelves caught a glimpse of blue light. Today wasn't an ordinary day for the boy, he wouldn't spend his night in the company of some dark art books, no, tonight held something different.

The heavy smell of books filled the room to the point of suffocation, but he didn't mind; he had gotten used to it from the countless times he had visited Hogwarts' library. Most of the books there had not been opened in years, some needed maintenance, while others appeared worn out from excessive use.

He passed the spot where he first met the arrogant girl from Hufflepuff and formed a grimace on his lips. She had dared to humiliate him earlier, both publicly and privately, by stepping on his foot as if he were a bug. It was very brave of her, something that would cost her. But on the other hand, he found it admirable that she showed no fear in front of him. No one had dared to do something like that to him, except for her. Even he did not understand how he kept his composure and didn't lash out at her like a wild beast.

But his biggest confusion was why his magic didn't work on the girl. This certainly required a more complex explanation for the assumption that his wand wasn't as powerful as he thought. Something else was happening here.

"A Guide to Proper Wand Usage" was the title of a thick tome painted with a green cover. One subsection of the book dealt with wand malfunctions and their influence on the surrounding environment. Most of what he read was familiar and he already knew it. So what had he done wrong? Could the girl have put a spell on him? Impossible, she had no reason to do so.

He closed the book with a loud thud and picked up another guide closer to him, and began to read it

However, the previous book had provided exactly what he was looking for, as at the end of the page there was a paragraph in small letters that read:

"—if anything from the above makes you believe it is not related to the malfunction of your wand, then make sure you have not fallen victim to any spells. If you have not fallen victim to spells, make sure that your opponent is within your reality."

In the end, he concluded defeatedly that his wand must have a problem.

He got up from the table and headed towards the exit, but stopped when his eyes met the worried gaze of Y/n Greengrass, who was ready to enter the library herself.

"Damn it," she muttered, and Tom sighed heavily.

"It seems like you're looking for trouble again," he didn't smile, there was no friendliness in his voice. "God must want you close to Him to keep sending you to me all the time," he approached her slowly and Y/n looked at him in astonishment.

The girl just wanted to take a walk to see the night view of Hogwarts, only to stumble upon the most unsuitable person. Her back hit the wall behind her and she felt her heart pounding relentlessly against her throat. She wished he wasn't so crazy and psychotic, she wished he was a normal person, she wished she had never come to Hogwarts. She didn't answer him, just continued to stare at him, hoping he would get bored and leave.

"You were very brave before, you must have come to your senses now," he said, approaching her a little more. The boy smelled of mint and soap, like the embodiment of summer, except his soul was a heavy winter without a drop of sunlight or clean air.

Y/n tried to think of something to say to him, but her attention was focused on the furious boy in front of her, who was dizzying her with his voice even in the darkness. How could she concentrate when he was looking at her up and down with such attention? She wanted to step on him again to see his reaction, but having him in front of her was more tempting than it should be

"Why are you wandering alone in the night? I could deduct points from your house right now, but the protocol dictates that I have to listen first to your stupid excuse," he felt superior seeing her so helpless and ready to collapse with every step he took.

"I just wanted to get some fresh air and I thought," she paused and he urged her to continue, "I thought that a good book would make me feel better."

He smiled maliciously, "You know how easy it would be for me to strangle you now?" his hand gently rested on her neck and his fingers caressed her artery, feeling her pulse. "You may not be relaxed, but you are helpless and alone in a dark room with me."

He didn't squeeze her as she expected, his fingers remained there feeling her artery pounding. "What, did you think I would strangle you?" His hand moved away from her neck and Y/n took a deep breath. Her cheeks were red and her breath unstable, unsure of his next move.

"No, not at least inside the school," she answered.

Tom smiled kindly showing a part of his fake self. "Good observation. Next time I'll make sure we're not here,"

...

Admittedly, he had broken his character in front of her and showed a part of himself that he shouldn't have. He felt like a broken mirror, cracked and imperfect, with only the decay overshadowing his soul showing.

He shouldn't have approached that girl again; she was insignificant to him, so insignificant that he couldn't even remember her. If she was so insignificant, then why were his eyes fixed on her the next morning? It was as if she had forgotten yesterday's events; she was sitting with her friends, chatting lively, and only when their eyes met from opposite ends of the room did her posture become more composed. The good thing was that Tom influenced her even from so far away.

Last night, Y/n returned to her room right after Tom Riddle had left her in the library. There was no way she was going to continue wandering alone at night after that.

She had never imagined Tom Riddle to be like this, she had a basic idea, but her imagination was very different from reality.

Damn it, the tons of fan-fiction she had read, none of them portrayed him as he was. Perhaps presenting a psychopathic character with noble characteristics pacifies the guilt and the fact that a large percentage of people are obsessed with him.

She missed home, but it was still too early to leave. She wanted to get to know Tom, and her first goal was successfully achieved, as much as all this could be considered a success, the magical world was waiting for her and she had many months ahead of her.

Avoiding Tom Riddle was the best solution.

Her friend, Charlotte, was talking non-stop about Theseus and how immature he was, like always, and only when she noticed her friend's worried expression stop and looked at her. "Are you alright, Y/n? Have I become too monotone?"

Her thoughts went blank and then she looked at the redhead. "I'm just tired, that's all," she lied.

Grace looked at her, raising her eyebrow. "I was looking for you last night, went to the bathroom but you were nowhere to be found."

Charlotte exclaimed, "Did you go out? With whom? Why?"

"I didn't go out with anyone, I just wanted to get some fresh air," she replied.

Charlotte shook her head and took a bite of her fried eggs. "I don't even go out even though I have a boyfriend. Theseus and I have secret dates only in the morning. It's too risky after what happened to poor Myrtle."

"I agree, don't do it again, Y/n," Grace agreed.

Observing Grace, Y/n noticed a different demeanor. Her eyes had lost their sparkle from yesterday and now looked skeptical and gloomy. "You seem off too, what happened?" Her hand lightly touched her shoulder and a sigh of relief appeared in Johnson's eyes.

The witch took a moment to respond but then found the courage. "It's just a letter I received from my parents. They are upset. Grindelwald's supporters have captured many of my father's colleagues," she approached them a little closer and whispered, "and he is in hiding now. Everything looks fine so far, but I have a bad feeling. If something happens to my parents, I will go insane."

Y/n had forgotten that despite the warmth and protection of Hogwarts, there was a destructive war raging outside its walls, both in the world of muggles and the wizarding world. How unfair it was that innocent civilians were being caught up in the conflict due to the interests of those who sought to dominate the world. All of them wanted to rule the world, thirsty for power, and they did nothing but destroy all human values and tarnish humanity through their actions. This world would never change, the same individuals would rise to power with the same political beliefs, goals, and interests.

They regarded the people as weak and stripped them of their right to speak out. It seemed like they had forgotten what had happened during the French Revolution in 1789, how the people, after enduring so much suffering, became angry and demanded their heads served on golden platters.

History constantly repeats itself, and the only thing that people can hope for is a repetition of these events. A reminder that the people are not sheep that sleep forever, but a volcano that boils and seeks the most suitable moment to erupt, burning everything in its path.