Y'all I must say that when I was writing this chapter I was so scared like help :,) This story is a fight against the fear I have since my sleep paralysis lol

CHAPTER SIX

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Leaving Dumbledore's office in an utter panic Y/n finds herself sitting on a small bench next to the fountain at Hogwarts field. The area was surrounded by solitude and the fresh air of October hit her face, while tiny spots of water cover her thick hair. The weather had some aura of ashiness, a murky ambiance that could only mean an ominous message. Now, she was not feeling like being home at all.

She did not expect this journey to be such a charade. The past hour she was feeling her skin crawl under the thought of her name being mentioned in a prophecy that involved Lord Voldemort and how through her love she could change him. Who made this cruel joke against her? It was unfair that she among so many people was the one to take care of such an intricate job. Was this a trick of her mind, a game that her unconsciousness was responsible for, she was such an unlucky person.

Dumbledore is a fool if he thinks that a teenager from another universe would hoist to her shoulders a weight like that. She did not have the vigor, or the mood to do it. She has a life waiting for her outside the thick walls of her dream world, which had so many other things to give her, and not a life based on misery and debauchery.

Hogwarts was a dream that through her sleep became a reality, allowing her to live like a wizard who is being taught wizardry and witchcraft for good purposes. A connection to her childhood and an empty promise she gave to herself that one day she will meet this fantastic world. However, fate had other plans.

Y/n crossed her arms and ponders if this was the right moment to wake up from this. This all would be too much for her, this was not her reality or her world, and being there would harm her even more. Screw everyone and their ideologies, she preferred to return to her house in Maine, rather than being a stager, an Arlecchino, a Harlequin, name it as you want, to their Commedia dell'arte. If the wizard knew that we can not be against fate itself then why assist her with this?

She shook her head, she seems like a coward who always run away from her duties like a scared puppy, but no this was not the case. Tom Riddle was a sadist that was only looking through his ideologies without rationality. He was a boy that made all the wrong choices, because of his tragic backstory, as if no other children had not an alike life and maybe even worse than him.

He had great vanity for believing that he could use this as an alibi into persuading himself that he could let his sociopathy lure into the cracks of his soul and destroy everything on his way.

But the problem with the boy was not the fact that he appeared to as a tragic person living a life that needed to be fixed by wiping out muggle-borns.

The problem with him was that he did not want to change, despite all the work you put into him. He finds reassurance in his authority, his cruelty, and his bestial nature. On the other way around, the boy had crucial abdomen issues, he had lost everyone for a romance that was not even real, he never found care or love, and the best way to sink this feeling into the abyss of his heart was to seek the opposite ones— hatred, misery, and pain. After all, why would he be generous to a world that never showed him even a little empathy?

She gazed her face at the azure waters and observed her reflection. This was a waste of time, she was not a heroine and would never be. She could be characterized as an unscrupulous and selfish person without personal beliefs by someone that was perceiving the whole matter from the outside because she turns her back on an issue like that. But Y/n was a human and the peril was bigger than her moralities. This was not her place to be and she had every right to decline this.

Her eyes closed and finally made her decision. The phrase she used as a keyword fell from her lips a sarcastic smile appeared on her face. The world around her flickered and the sound became faded, and before feeling herself collapsing to the soft mattress of her bed a faint voice in the background sounded to yell at her bogus surname.

The nightmare ended and Y/n found herself saturated her sweat, eyes radiant from the tears that were running down her cheeks. She gasped loudly and grabbed her phone to check the time. It had run out of battery, but from the sight of her window, she could tell that the breaking of the day was close as the stripes of moonlight were vanishing between the faded shade of carrots that were written on the sky.

She felt relief but also perturbed as she bounced around her room with unstable steps. Yes, maybe the shock was a lot to take. She felt safe and as she recalled the events of her previous encounters, they only appear as some old memories that she had from a long time ago, obscure from the passage of time. Nevertheless, she stayed up until morning hours.

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May the waves outside of her house welcome her back but the paranoia was still crawling back into her head. With a cup of coffee in her hand, she was sitting down in her kitchen, holding the same exhausted expression. She was harassed and still, the apprehension did not seem to leave her that easily.

Everyone was out of the house for their jobs and it was the first time she did not appreciate this action. She had a constant feeling of being watched and every time she checked around expecting to see some pair of eyes glancing back at her. But nothing came.

She had even googled forums and websites if someone else had experienced this kind of situation, but again, she seemed to be the exception. Most of the were about funny stories and misunderstandings that happened to them, but no one mentioned a prophecy. She started believing that maybe the world she visited was real and that maybe all this was not as random as she thought, but this was ridiculous. Nothing was connected, it was just a game that her mind was playing with her.

She grabbed her phone and texted Marisa with her hands shaking again from agony. It was a simple message asking her to come to her place because she felt scared alone at her house. Her friend responded immediately with an emoji and within minutes her doorbell rang and Y/n rushed to open her.

Marisa Evans appeared on the doorstep with her hair tangled into a low bun and eyes hollow from the lack of sleep. She was wearing a Stranger Things hoodie and pants in her pajamas while holding a plate of biscuits from her house. Her round face hardened as she watched Y/n with her face concerned "Girl, you look like a truck just hit you, you okay?" Her voice pitch was either high or low, she passed her body and lay on the sofa ahead of her, before leaving the plate on the kitchen table "My mom made it. So, what happened to you?"

The question was simple, but what could be possible the right answer for this was debatable. The girl sat down next to her and let her head hit back the sofa "I shifted again,"

Marisa laughed at her and then throw a pillow at her face winning a scowl from Y/n "Did you fuck with the psychopath?" Marisa could be irritating sometime, the lack of seriousness was a big con for her, and right now is not the best moment to jest. Surely, if the situation had a different turn it would be funny to use these words.

"For God's sake Marisa, no. If it was that, would I woke you up, suddenly a Saturday morning full of panic?" She replied frustrated with her fingers grabbing the roots of her hair.

"Indeed, it was weird. Did something happen to your shifting experience?"

Y/n breathed heavily "I swear to God, I would never sleep again. They involved me in a prophecy that requests me to change Tom Riddle's fate. Can you believe it? I was hella scared that I was about to throw up at Dumbledore when he told me,"

She crossed her arms and Marisa gasped and scoffed "By rights, you had every point to do so. This old motherfucker has a thing to requests tasks from teenagers that he can not handle himself,"

"He was alright Marisa. I do not understand why people do not like him," she commented and her friend rolled her eyes.

"Bullshit,"

There was a silence between them and Marisa had no idea how to comfort her best friend, the situation was unusual. Y/n broke first and asked as her eye were observing the patterns that their house floor was making "Do you believe that all this is connected to reality?"

The other girl was at the table picking a biscuit from her mom's plate "Well, I mean, I was against all that from the start. My grandma says that if you are about to change someone's fate, then be prepared for a long marathon, because we should not get involved with this kind of thing," the biscuit was in her mouth, deliciously melting in her tongue.

Y/n rushed and took a biscuit too from the plate "And what if I am destined to do it?" Her voice was low, too exhausted to put any color to it.

"We talk about our world, not the one you visited. This simply was work of your imagination and a very good lesson to not repeat it," her tone hold reassurance, but was the spiritual so sure about the reality of her words? Her amber eyes scanned Y/n's face and she realized that her friend need mental support.

This was a lot for a teenager, and especially for a person that is not used to connecting telepathically with other universes. If the girl needed something, like a human needs oxygen, she needed good company to have her mind away from her experience.

Marisa passed in her hand the remote and opened the TV with Y/n now having the plate of biscuits in her lap eating slowly "So what good are we gonna watch? Netflix may be a good option, what do you think?" Y/n shouldered at the question and Marisa just started a reality program that she found in recommends.

Hopefully, the girl's mind drifts away from the fear and the feeling is starting to be replaced by nothingness, as her life seems to return to normal. Marisa stayed at her house until noon, as her mom called her for lunch. After leaving the house, Y/n found the opportunity to study burying in the back of her mind the thought of her shifting experience. After almost twelve hours later the whole scene had been forgotten as it had never happened.

Her parents return home for dinner and the girl sat down with them avoiding sharing with them what happened to her sleep. They would not understand and most likely they would scold her for doing so, plus they would freak out followed by tons of questions. She was good alone with her thoughts, having her parents participate would cause her only headache.

The girl was exhausted and she could feel the bed calling her name like crazy. She excused herself informing her parents that she needed sleep, they say goodnight and Y/n left, without exchanging any other words. She lay down on her bed with her blankets covering her body and her eyes feeling heavy on her face. She still had a discredited feeling, but her sleep deprivation had a bigger impact on her body.

Nothing could happen to her.

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Her vision was blurry and her head was heavy, she could not hear clearly what the people around her were saying. She heard some whispers and then she saw four shadowing heads looking in her direction. Her vision cleared, and she recognized immediately the face of her imaginary friend, Charlotte Macmillan with her blonde locks being held to one side of her shoulder, hazel eyes looking at her worryingly. The maiden of Hospital Wing held a sympathetic expression on her face as she reached with her hand to her forehead to check for her temperature. Professor Albus Dumbledore with an austere expression in his ocean eyes and lastly Tom Riddle, a puzzled look on his features, with his irises glowing a faint shade of green and his hands behind his back.

"Ain't no way," the girl murmured with her American accent showing off. She rubbed her eyes and the blur went away, and she observed them a little better. It was not a dream, she had returned. This seemed like an endless nightmare. Was she imagining all of this?

Her eyelashes fluttered and a sharp emotion nested inside her. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, and she wanted to scream for help, but it would not do her any good. Everyone would think she was crazy and that she had lost her mind. Nonetheless, the tears that flowed from her eyes could not stop, and the trembling returned with Y/n covering her face with her hands.

Charlotte reached out and rested her hand on her friend's shoulder. "I died and then return to life when I saw Riddle holding you in his arms unconscious," she said, and Charlotte embraced her as Y/n felt the same nausea she felt when she left Dumbledore's office. "How this happened?" she asked, and Y/n shook her head for a prolonged moment.

She did not know what to say, how to justify it all. She thought for a moment, to tell the truth, and then leave, leaving behind the wreckage, but that was certainly a foolish idea. "I do not know, everything around me darkened," she lied with tears dried in the corners of her eyes.

"Why are you crying then?" Charlotte made things more difficult with her questions, but she cared for her friend and could not bear to see her in this state. They had always been the three of them, her, Grace, and Y/n. They were her family.

"Perhaps from the shock," this was not a lie. The fact that she returned to the same spot combined with the fact that Tom Riddle found her worried her even more.

It was unnatural for Tom to help her, while a few days ago he threatened to drown her in the Lake. Now, the most logical thing would be to drown her in the fountain, but a skilled murderer knows when to strike. She looked at him and saw something in his eyes that she could not explain. They did not exactly hide an emotion, but neither were they indifferent. She shook her head, telling him mentally that she appreciated it, and he returned the gaze.

He did not know why he helped her, either he liked that he did it, but he could not leave her like that. Especially when there were so many students around. It would be foolish to endanger his reputation or the prestige he had built up over the years.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and looked at his two students. "My dear children, I want to speak privately with your classmate. Please return to your lessons," they obeyed and the maiden went into her office, leaving the two alone. They remained silent for a while, with Y/n waiting for the teacher to speak.

"Looks like your plan backfired, doesn't it?" the laughter in his voice was not at all reassuring. He sat down next to the chair.

"Professor Dumbledore, with all due respect, I think this is a suicide mission. I do not belong here, and I can not do it, I am very scared," the girl confessed honestly, trying to maintain her composure.

Dumbledore responded directly, "Then why does a prophecy in my world mention your name?"

"Because it is a product of my imagination. My subconscious can create them," the girl explained to him. She had to justify all of this somehow, because if it was all true, then she was in deep trouble.

Dumbledore stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of her bed with a monologue, "In your world, were you not taught that with sleep, you can not only enter the world of dreams but also a different universe? The only difference is that you can control a dream, but not a universe. And now, from what I understand, everything around you seems more boisterous than in a dream,"

The girl looked at him curiously and then he continued, "Miss L/n, stay with us, even for half a year. I will help you as much as I can. And if you can not achieve anything, you can go back," his irises did not hide any scheme, but rather an anticipation. "We need you," was what he said in the end, which made the girl contemplate her next steps.

Half a year was needed to approach Tom Riddle and change him. Regardless, she agreed and maybe a self-made suicide was better than this.