CHAPTER TWO

The chaotic midnight passed and the universe brought another day with the shining stripes of the Scottish sun hitting Hufflepuff's dorms, waking the one by one the students. Grace Johnson poked Y/n's body to wake her up for breakfast, while Charlotte had already left the dorm followed by the Slytherin troublemaker, Theseus Lestrange. Of course, the two of them had something like an affair, but an affair full of intrigue and aimless quarrellings. They were exhausted from it, but the endless self-masochism by arguing like enemies with each other was keeping them close from time to time.

However, Charlotte was a person that could be fooled easily. You could say that the strawberry blonde girl was controlled merely by her feelings that the young heir of the Lestrange family was causing her whole existence without even mind to have second thoughts.

Theseus was manipulative and the definition of toxicity was in his veins as much as the pure blood ran in there. She couldn't tell what the thing that got her closer to him was, but maybe the interest that he showed to her like no other man was enough to make a click in her heart. He was a true gentleman, with fluffy dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and the brightest smile she had ever seen in a person.

At the time, Theseus was apologizing to Charlotte for not being on his time on their previous date claiming that had some duties to take care of.

Either way, Charlotte Macmillan and Theseus Lestrange were not a good match.

At the other side of the castle, Y/n had woken up watching Grace's form taking care of her thick curly hair while talking about the recent gossip that she learned the same day.

Grace Johnson as her house chaser was popular among the other pupils and always was welcomed to every group to sit and keep company telling the most interesting stories. However, she was enough overloaded for her own good with burdens that she was hearing from other students. Y/n from the other side was listening to her forgetting completely that she had shifted only to meet Tom Riddle.

Her new reality felt almost too real.

She put on pride her Hufflepuff uniform ambling side by side with Grace Johnson to the Great Hall hoping to find at least two empty seats for them at their House table. As they entered, the strong smell of fresh eggs and pumpkin juice filled Y/n's nostrils beefing up her appetite. The room was full of chanters from students that were chatting with each other and the ear-piercing sound of glasses and plates.

Ahead of her, four tables resembling the four houses of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft.

Starting from the right, Hufflepuff, the house of loyalty and fairness, maybe it hadn't the most talented students, but it had the students that everyone needed in their lives to cope with the bad times; hard-working friends and with its yellow color symbolizing the sun and hope.

The following house right next to Hufflepuff was Ravenclaw, the house of Rowena Ravenclaw, a royal-blue tone hulking in their flag, in which the students with extraordinary wisdom had been sorted there. At the time most students were studying with their breakfast beside them, not sharing another word as the other tables did.

Third in the row. the red-colored table with the bravest students stood the most approachable of them all. Gryffindor house had a tradition of owning the most capable Quidditch players, winning every year against every house. Students that hold bravery in their heart like a lion.

The contrary, however, with the last and neighbourhood house was quite noticeable as you could see closely some nasty looks that both of them were giving to each other. The emerald color of the snake characterizes the House of Slytherin; a house for pure-blood families with cunning heirs who had the ambition to achieve great things in the feature.

At the Slytherin table, Y/n could spot her friend chatting with Theseus Lestrange intensely, again, and beside him his group of friends; Michael Avery, Antony Rosier, Theodore Nott, and another man that was sitting with a bored expression on his face looking at the void drift on his thoughts, looking ethereal under the bright light of the Scottish sun with enchanting handsomeness, Tom Riddle.

She could feel her breath stuck in her throat as she observed the Slytherin prefect, the boy she desired to meet. The Slytherin boy had midnight dark hair and his skin was pale as the moonlight that was glowing on the cold nights of January. Better than the books, even better than the movies.

Y/n noticed that the boy was scribing down in his notebook, more like his journal, with attention paying no mind to the loud chants around him as if they were not there. The girl's stare became intense and it followed him even when she sat down at her table with Grace next to her. The power of the state hold something that didn't pass unnoticed by the boy, and as if everything around him didn't bother him, this stare was the reason made these two pairs of eyes start an endless dance that resembled much the ode of the famous ballet by Tchaikovsky, Swan Lake. The slow pace at first, doubtingly of where it ends, but then gaining dynamic and potential into something great.

Tom Riddle looked through her pupils, trying to understand why this girl with the Hufflepuff attire had the right to stare at him with this curiosity. The state felt familiar to both of them, although Tom had never seen her, however, Y/n could sense the same fear as she did one night, in her reality, ago. His eyes could glow even in the morning hours like the serpent he was and she could feel an allure feeling crawling into her chest as the loud music of the orchestra become louder.

She broke the gaze turning her head to Johnson listening to her story avoiding completely the furrowed eyebrows that Tom Riddle had in his expression. He never missed students in this castle, yet anyone that knew him would never dare stare at his magnificence and continue after catching them. His puzzled look turned to his fellow follower, Rosier, who was eating peacefully his breakfast and talking joyfully with Avery about the upcoming Quidditch game.

"Rosier, who is she?" his eyes found Y/n's form at the end of the opposite table from
them.

Michelle Avery bowed his head to the side muttering to Riddle "Isn't she Y/n Greengrass?"

"I do not recall her," Tom responded trying to find one single memory of this girl in his head but the only thing that was there in her "binder" was emptiness.

"Oi, Lestrange, what's your girlfriend's friends name?" the boy questioned to make sure that he didn't have mistaken the girl's name, showing also a playful grin on his face when he pronounced the word girlfriend to Theseus.

"A git like him could never have a girlfriend," spatted with a high-pitched voice Charlotte was influenced as always by Lestrange's childish behavior. "Y/n Greenhouse and Grace Johnson, why do you ask?"

"Nothing, just curious," Rosier said and turned his head to Riddle "What about her, my lord?"

Tom blinked a few times throwing away his thoughts and replied with coldness "I have never seen her before that's all,"

Michelle shrugged his shoulders speaking to them with a low voice "She is a friends with Jonson, so it is hard to not know her or even remember her," he paused "I mean everyone knows her,"

Tom Riddle however didn't have any thought of her not even when Avery mentioned, hearing the conversation, that she had been several times to their table looking for Charlotte or the fact that she was one of the best students among the others of the Hufflepuff house (in Tom's opinion this was debatable as "this house had only failures")

He gazed at the girl and saw her enjoying the delicious breakfast without sharing any other stare.

...

The sun could be compared to a clock's index rotating around the highest point of the school, the astronomy tower, bringing the peaceful sunset light into charge hitting the marbles, and creating a wonderful enviable scenery in front of Y/n's unbelieved eyes. The muggle was astonished and couldn't believe that her plan had succeeded— she was home, the place she was dreaming of since she first saw the movies; the place that she was sensing as her true destination since she read the Philosopher Stone. She was one of those kids that were waiting for the imaginary Hogwarts letter to arrive at their house in the hope that the magical world of Harry Potter was real. Little Y/n couldn't understand the difference between imagination and reality, but right now the grown version of herself could understand the power that the human mind has; creating an alternative universe that could stay there for eternity.

Y/n would tell everything to her Marisa when she woke up, for the time being, there were six months left for them to meet again, and in her reality some hours until then. Marisa Scott was her friend since childhood, growing up in the same neighborhood, with the same interests and the same psychosynthesis.

Marisa had short hair in the color of the night-blue sky and her eyes grey like the gloomy weather of a November day. She was spiritual, being fond from a young age of her grandmother's charisma, and as she had spent most of her life next to her she was excellent at handling these things. The young girl had respect for magic and didn't ever cross any boundaries that would harm her or any other around her. Being gifted with this charisma was a blessing and a curse at the same time, without showing respect to its ability could function like an atomic bomb, counting backward to your downfall.

The air became colder and she was one hundred sure that the temperature was about to hit under zero. The goosebumps stopped as soon as her body welcomed the castle's warm breeze and Y/n sighed and took the road to the library leaving the Astronomy Tower.

The library was crowded with students, most of them being in the seventh year, and she could tell by the lunatic looks plastered on their faces as they were surrounded by books with their hair resembling a caricature that someone had drawn. Deep down in the library's corridors, she found a quiet place to sit. Behind her was a bookshelf in which she recognized some muggle books and poems and decided to pick one to keep her mind away.

With her arrival at Hogwarts, someone would want to explore every inch of the castle, every corridor, and every ancient history that this building was hiding. But, then, the solitude, the calming aura was begging her to stay in her place and enjoy the journey.

Her hand roamed through thick covers and stopped at a book with a cream cover that was standing out from the other books. She reached her hand, expecting her hand to collide with the hardcover, but instead, her hand collided with another one with slender and crimson, perhaps from the cold, fingers.

She didn't need to turn her head to see who it was. however, her curiosity got her and her head snapped meeting Tom Riddle's gaze. Fuck the Wattpad books, maybe Tom Riddle was always destined to creep out of nowhere and surprising of nowhere.

He flattered a charming smile, fixing his composure to fool the girl more, little did he know that the strange woman knew him like an open book. He hold the velvet cover in his hands and turned it to meet the title "Les fleurs du mal, am I correct?" his french accent rang into her ears and he handed her the book. What I macabre coincidence, Tom Riddle was the Devil's seed who grow up like a flower, a moonflower, that was hiding behind its beauty a poison ivy.

The girl breathed heavily "Charles Baudelaire, indeed. An extraordinary poem collection, isn't it?" the witch responded bracing his fingers with her hand as she touched the book.

"Precisely. I understand why they call him one of the cursed poets, you see not everyone finds the truth behind this world," Tom Riddle could say instead that this world was made for wizards to rule, with a pioneer himself; the great Lord Voldemort.

But of course, he had to show another persona to the world, it would be such a pity his plans go waisted because he couldn't control his outbursts.

He continued his monologue, however, "People with great minds always seem lunatic and got distanced from the lame sheep which is called mass,"

Indisputably, Tom Riddle was scarier when he was talking to Y/n's eyes. The way the words flew out of his mouth revealed the wild and unforgivable nature he had since childhood. Maybe the mask he was wearing couldn't hide the evilness of his soul.

Y/n could swear that in this scene the perfect song for a background would be Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez, an artist from her time that was judged by the meanings of her songs and mostly for their content.

All the best people are crazy, and Tom Riddle was crazy.

"I prefer creating my truth for this world, it's in my hand to live through the dark or the bright side,". she said and Tom raised an eyebrow. The girl seemed to hold no fear against him, her body didn't even tremble from it. It felt like she was talking to a normal person, not to the future ruler of the wizardry world. And with another shot, Y/n disturbed him even more "Excuse me, but I don't catch your name," playing a game with Tom Riddle's mind was dangerous, perhaps the boy should have a sign in front of him with the phrase Do not attempt to get close.

If a stare could kill Y/n would be dead with her head chopped splitting her brains out on the oak wood table, but again Tom Riddle knew how to maintain his composure "I thought that my persona was known for everyone here," he gave her his hand "I am Tom Riddle," his name left an acidulous taste in his tongue, disgusted by the muggle name that his mother gave him.

"Y/n Greengrass," the girl shook the boy's hand twice this day.

I hope you like this chapter, I am not familiar with long chapters, but I really tried my best into improving my writing skills.