"Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book."

━━ THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The uproar in the grounds was more deafening than any noise Inkeri had ever heard. Every time a chaser shot towards one of the three hoops, the entire crowd seemed to compete with one another, each house trying to be louder than the others.

Crimson and emerald players zoomed around the pitch, both eager to outshine their rival team, as Slytherin and Gryffindor, the two houses with the deepest enmity, vied for glory. Asha and Inkeri stood in the Slytherin stands— although the Ravenclaw kept tugging her hood further up her face, glancing fearfully at the people around her.

Selwyn and Lestrange were the team's beaters, and were admittedly magnificent in their coordination. Malfoy, unsurprisingly, was the seeker, and his dexterity did not dim in comparison, with the way in which he weaved in and out of the surging game with ease.

"I should not be here," Asha whispered, unease creeping up her stiffened form. "These Slytherins would hex me if they found out I was not one of them."

"You wanted to show solidarity to Adrielle," Inkeri said with unintended harshness. "If you keep looking around with wide terrified eyes, people are going to get suspicious anyway." Impossibly, Asha sunk even further into her hood, and the Slytherin witch shook her head, a slight smile playing on her lips.

Gryffindor's chaser McKinnon snatched the quaffle from the sky, sending it through the outermost goal and dodging the keeper with ease, but to Inkeri's surprise, the action was not met with a series of booing from the green crowd. She turned around to see why.

As it happened, everyone was too distracted to react because Tom Riddle had decided to grace the match with his presence. Apparently, this was a rare occasion, as every gaped at him for at least two minutes before going back to their own business.

Much to her dismay, the boy came directly to stand beside her. "Are you back to try again?" Inkeri deadpanned, trying to keep her voice steady as she thought back to his painful attempts at Legilimency. "Best of three, Riddle, what do you say?"

Riddle surveyed her calmly. "Endeavouring to invade the mind of a trained Occlumens will always prove futile," he stated coolly. "I just did not expect you to be one."

Inkeri swivelled her head to make a comment to Asha, but the girl was nowhere to be seen, seemingly having fled at the first sight of Riddle. The witch internally resented her friend for being such a weakling.

"I find it rather surprising that you are a fan of quidditch," he commented, unsubtly changing the subject. "I would have thought you were amused by better things than this."

"Oh and what are you amused by?" She snapped, fear giving way to irritation. "A riveting book about death? The dissonant cries of dying children?" Inkeri waited to see if his passive disposition would give way, but it did not.

"Funny," he droned monotonously, lips pressed in a straight line. "You become so defensive over nothing else but a useless sport, yet ignore any attacks on your own dignity."

"I don't know what you mean," Inkeri scoffed, "but all I can hear is 'I don't know how to have fun, so I'll rain on everyone's parade.'" She mimicked his voice by adopting an unrealistic baritone that was not even close to accurate.

Inkeri watched him carefully for a minute. On the surface, his expression seemed as pleasant as ever, but forcing herself to look past his beauty, she noticed the way his pupils had dilated as he watched the pitch with utter hatred, and his jaw had clenched so tightly that the bone jutted out.

Then, in an instant, it dissolved into a smile. "I simply spend my time usefully," he said coolly, finally turning to meet her eyes. "Maybe you should do the same. Your Potions abilities are astonishingly awful."

"How rude," she muttered.

"Forgive me," he said with a careless laugh that was almost believable. "If you would allow it, I could ask Nott to give you some help outside of lessons? I have noticed that the two of you are relatively close. I'm sure he would not mind."

Of course he would not, Inkeri thought. He would do anything at your command.

"That's not necessary," she said distantly. "He seems permanently exhausted these days." Her gaze travelled the crowd, to where Triton was sitting with Dolohov. "I wouldn't want to add to his burden."

"Yes, he has been quite busy," Riddle, his eyes gleaming with malicious pride as he watched the brown-haired boy. "His talent has proved invaluable to me." Inkeri looked at him from the side of her eye, but left the matter at that.

"Tom Riddle," she said suddenly, changing the subject. She paused for a moment, and noticed the way he rigidified at the sound of his name. "Do you have magical roots? Your name is very resemblant to that of a mortal."

"What are you implying?" He asked, his voice unnaturally calm.

"Well, I know that you are not part of the pureblood circle," she said slowly. The girl had extracted this golden sliver of information painstakingly from Triton, taking advantage one night of his dishevelled disposition. "There are rumours, you know. That you are a... muggleborn."

Like a worn cord, Riddle had snapped, and his wand was pressed against her throat. "I have silently tolerated your insolence," he hissed, "but you seem to be taking my patience for granted." Inkeri tried to take a step back, but found her limbs frozen and unresponsive.

"I was just speculating," she stated as best she could. "There is no need to be so sensitive. Is it because I was right?" She realised this was not the smartest thing to say given his current frenzy of rage, but she needed to push him over the edge. Just one slip-up...

Riddle straightened, and removed his wand and tucked it into his sleeve. She felt the weight of his enchantment lift off her, and rubbed the forming bruise on her neck. "I would choose my words more carefully from now on if I were you," he spat, turning and leaving the stands.

He left her mind to spin with dizzy success. Inkeri had finally found his Achilles heel, and she intended to use the loose thread to unravel his cloak of deceit and lies. She was so, so close to the truth— and she was damned to stumble upon the fatal path.

A sudden clamour sounded through the grounds as on the pitch, the two seekers Abraxas and Belladonna chased after the snitch. The wine-haired girl was clearly the more talented of the two, but fortune denied her side, as Malfoy edged closer to victory.

With a final jolt of his broom, the blond boy encircled his fingers around the delicate golden ball, and with that, the match had been won.

Adrielle touched down on the grass and was immediately enveloped into a hug by Asha. The Slytherin girl pushed her away nastily, but that didn't deter the Ravenclaw from jumping up and down with puerile delight.

Inkeri couldn't fight the infectious smile on her face, pushing past the celebrating Slytherins to run down out of the stands to meet the two girls.

When she finally got onto the pitch, breathless and excited, Lestrange was the first to notice her. "I did not know you were so eager to congratulate me," he said with smirk, "I'm touched."

"Ignore him," Adrielle said, glaring at Orpheus with mild belligerence. "He acts cocky to get attention, and it never really works the way he wants it to."

Lestrange shrugged carelessly. "It worked on you," he remarked, leaning on his polished, black broom. "Your attention is the only one that I care for." Adrielle's stare turned lethal as she shifted her broom threateningly.

"Womanizer," Asha commented quietly with a small roll of her eyes, though too timid to let him hear her. "But anyway, we must have a party in your honour." She directed this at Adrielle, who shrugged.

"I would not mind a firewhiskey," she decided, much to Inkeri's surprise. "As long as it is not me that is paying." Though the witch had spent many nights beside the fireplace with Adrielle, silently doing homework or reading a book, she still had not managed to discern her companion's character.

"Nope, it's all on me today," Asha said exuberantly.

"All on you?" Malfoy questioned, approaching as he had finally finished with basking in the glory of his victory. Lestrange casually threw his arm over Asha's shoulders, and the girl almost keeled over with fright. "We are on the team too, you know."

Inkeri raised an eyebrow at him. "So?" She asked, and Abraxas gave her an uncharacteristic grin.

"So, this Ravenclaw owes us a free drink too," Lestrange concluded, as though it were an obvious fact. "Do not say no to our presence again, Koskinen, really. We are your only friends in Slytherin, after all."

"Friends?" Inkeri repeated sceptically. "That really is laughable."

"Acquaintances at the very least," Malfoy persisted. "It is final— you would have to put a curse on us to make us stay here." Asha and Inkeri exchanged a glance, uncertain of what to say.

"Why, gladly," Selwyn sneered, pulling out her wand, but Asha, ever the pacifist quickly pushed her friend's arm down. A silent look of mutual agreement passed between the two, and Adrielle, albeit disgruntled, lowered her attack.

"Come along then, if you must," Inkeri relented, folding her arms warily and glaring at the boys with apprehension. "It would be rude to deny you now, after this display of desperation."

The sly grin made its way back onto Malfoy's lips, and Inkeri fleetingly admired the angularity of his mature face, his aristocratic posture, the perfect way his hair was parted and styled even despite having played in the match. It juxtaposed the different kind of attractiveness which Lestrange sported, which was all ruffled hair and unruly collars and casual disposition.

"Brilliant," Lestrange said, though his voice was lacking its usual jovial quality. "This evening, then. I am sure Triton will want to come. Maybe Rosier—"

"He is busy," Abraxas interrupted hastily. "We wouldn't want to hassle him from his studies now, would we?" Orpheus rolled his eyes, but didn't seem bothered enough to get involved in the feud.

"We don't care," Adrielle said dully, picking her broom up from the ground. She took Asha's arm and turned to leave, though not before giving Inkeri an unreadable look of scrutiny. With that, she turned and headed back to the castle, dragging her friend with her.

The blonde had no choice but to ignore the evident disapproval Selwyn held for her, and follow them anyway, as Asha pulled her along by the hand at the last moment.

She didn't however, miss the look of sorrow which Lestrange shot Malfoy, and when he received a scornful glare in return, the way he looked down at his shoes with something akin to guilt.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

A light drizzle pattered atop brown brick rooftops and a cobblestone road, as the usual din of Hogsmeade fell quiet while everyone was driven inside by the rain. The faint scent of butterbeer and burning wood drifted through the occasional open door, and the glinting streetlights flickered dimly along the path, contrasting the despondent grey sky.

Inkeri tugged her scarf over her head, boots clacking on the uneven stones as she walked briskly towards the Three Broomsticks. Her teeth chattered from cold and anticipation, and she was already slightly behind the intended time of arrival.

Outside the inn, a figure was waiting for her, sheltered beneath the thatched roof, hat pulled low over their eyes. As she approached, the shadow detached itself from the others as Riddle pushed himself off of the wall, hands crossed over his chest. She froze, and he lowered his head, eyes coming down to her level, then smirked.

"You are late," he said, his voice taunting as he made a display of checking his watch. "They've started without you."

"What a pity," she said flatly, willing herself to go closer. "Why are you standing out here in the dark like a reject?"

"Waiting for you, of course," he said in a polite tone so false that it almost matched the dazzling smile which played on his lips. Like a grotesque monster, hidden behind an elaborate gown and an ornate mask.

Tom held the door open for her, and she thanked him through gritted teeth. The warmth was striking, but she kept her coat on as she slid into their booth beside Asha. The Ravenclaw, oddly, seemed quite comfortable among the Slytherins.

"I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me," the dark-haired girl said, looking at Inkeri with wide, reproachful eyes. The foreign witch was vaguely aware of Malfoy' eyes drilling into the side of her head.

Inkeri shrugged unapologetically. "I got caught up in things," she said dismissively, as Nott pushed a drink towards her, flashing his customary, awkward yet genuine smile. The girl cast her eyes briefly around the table, and saw that only Rosier and Dolohov were missing.

Lestrange immediately stood to give his seat at the head of the table to Riddle, and Adrielle rolled her eyes at them from the top of her mug. "Give me your coat," Orpheus said to Inkeri, and hesitantly she took it off and handed it to him.

"What is this?" Inkeri asked sceptically, turning her lips downward at the brown liquid beverage in front of her.

Abraxas laughed, tipping his head back slightly. "That is firewhiskey," he said, the corner of his lip raised. He seemed different than usual; more relaxed, casual almost. "Try it."

She took a small sip first, and cringed at the way the alcohol burned her throat. Now she understood why Malfoy's usually pallid cheeks had a rosy tinge, and Lestrange's collar was undone.

Asha watched her reaction knowingly. "It tastes awful to me too," she concluded. "Here, try what I'm having. It's butterbeer."

"I didn't think you were so faint-hearted, Koskinen," Riddle spoke suddenly, raising his eyebrows mockingly. She hated the way his Western accent distorted the eloquent pronunciation of her name, and how he riddled it with spite and disgust.

"I am not," she defensively, enclosing slender fingers around the handle. "I was just taken by surprise." Inkeri downed the entire tankard and placed it delicately on the table, deciding not to slam it in polite company like she would have with Mathias.

The girl swayed slightly, but was certain she could still maintain her composure, as Lestrange slid into the seat beside her. Inkeri was vaguely aware of Adrielle's eyes watching them from the corner.

Orpheus cleared his throat awkwardly. "I would like to apologize," he admitted, fiddling loosely with the hem of his shirt. "For what happened after Astronomy. Riddle gets a little carried away sometimes in his curiosity... but he doesn't mean to do you any harm."

Inkeri noted how his voice had dropped to just above a whisper. "Sure," she murmured, hiding her scepticism. "Happens to the best of us, I suppose." He either didn't notice her sarcasm, or didn't care, as he nodded and didn't further the conversation.

The night went on, and Inkeri fell into a strange state of reassurance. As she watched Abraxas and Lestrange rowdily arm wrestle after their third drink, she wondered if she'd thought too much of the Slytherins. They almost seemed like normal people. The only exception to this rule was Tom himself, who was currently engaged in a deep, serious conversation with Triton, the only sober ones left.

A new round of shouts drew her from her thoughts. Malfoy had lost the arm wrestling match, and responded by playfully trapping Orpheus in a headlock.

"Admit that you cheated!" The blond heir laughed, while Lestrange, choking both from suffocation and a fit of laughter, struggled in his grip.

"Malfoy always was a sore loser," Asha giggled, her neck flushed since Triton had convinced her to ditch the butterbeer for something stronger. Now the two kept stealing glances from across the table, although the Ravenclaw was always the first to look away.

"How do you know that?" Inkeri deigned to ask. For all her resentment of them, the girl thought it strange, the way Asha seemed to click so well into the gang of misfits.

Asha hesitated, checking fleetingly to see that nobody was paying attention to her. "We were all quite close back in first year. Especially Adrielle and Lestrange," she said sadly, eyes flickering to the Selwyn girl who sat silently sipping her seventh drink.

"Then Riddle came into the circle and they all started worshipping him. I didn't really fit into his ideals and Adrielle doesn't follow others, so we just... drifted apart I suppose." Asha shrugged, then locked eyes with Nott for the hundredth time, before dipping her head.

The newcomer pondered over this for a few minutes. She wondered how different the boys must have been back then, to be familiar with the most gentle of souls. Then again, it wasn't as though Asha was picky about her friends.

"Don't worry about it," Asha said brightly, nudging Inkeri's shoulder. "I have better friends now, like yourself." She looked at Abraxas painfully. "Ones that would not write me off as a tarnish on their reputation."

"Cheers to that," Inkeri muttered dryly, as the two girls clinked their glasses together and took a sip of firewhiskey each. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lestrange now kneeling in front of Selwyn's chair and kissing her hand flirtatiously, who was on her seventh firewhiskey yet still entirely in her senses. 

"I could outdrink you any day," Adrielle said boredly, yanking her arm away from the boy with a harsh glare. 

"Bet!" Lestrange announced, a little too loudly. Riddle sent him a venomous look, and he cowered back. "Bet," he repeated, more quietly this time, and Malfoy almost fell off his chair from how hard he was snickering. 

"I will go and pay the bill, hold on," Asha said, grabbing her purse, but a bony hand reached across and grabbed her wrist before she could even move to stand up. 

"There is no need," Nott said, hastily dropping the girl's arm as though it were searing hot. Tom was leaning back in his chair, indicating that their conversation had ended. "Abraxas will p-pay."

"He's so wasted you will probably take him home in a body bag," Inkeri pointed out. "Let me, I have enough of these useless metal circles anyway." She slid out of her chair and headed to the counter, before she could notice the exchanged look of puzzlement at her description of coins.

The gruff barman handed her a cheque, and she began counting out money from her wallet, when Riddle came and leaned on the counter beside her. Inkeri wondered why since she knew he couldn't pay; she still recollected Belladonna's first words to her. 

Tom had rolled up his sleeves in the heat to reveal pale, veiny wrists. His hair was more ruffled than usual, falling over his eyebrows and curling at the ends, a dark brown like polished chestnuts. If it wasn't for the consuming darkness emanating from him, she may have been fooled into fancying him for his beauty. 

"Why the sudden display of gallantry, Koskinen?" He questioned, but his tone was not smooth or teasing— it had a strange, dark undertone, as though he were genuinely uncertain. "You've been all but courteous to my Knights since you arrived here."

"Your Knights?" Inkeri repeated with confusion, but she brushed it off quickly. "It's as I said, these superficial riches mean less to me that they do to you."

"And why is that?" He demanded, "why are you exempt from caring about wealth? Why does money mean nothing to you?" She looked at him for a brief second with alarm at the sudden bombardment of questions. 

"So many inquiries just because I was kind," she said with faux surprise. "Worry does not look good on you, Riddle." Losing her patience, she emptied her wallet onto the counter and told the man to keep the change. 

"Believe me, I am not worried," Riddle said darkly, narrowing his eyes at her and straightening the sleeve of his ill-fitting sweater. "I usually seek out the answers I want, and they always reveal themselves to me sooner or later."

"Well then, good luck with that," she said breezily, brushing past him and heading back to her seat. Inkeri wondered whether Tom's constant manipulation of those around him had made him paranoid that everyone was trying to do the same to him. 

Back in the booth, Lestrange had almost passed out from his drinking contest with Adrielle. He had his head slumped onto the table, and the girl grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back so he was looking at her. 

"I am leaving now," she sneered. "I wish I could stay to see you pathetically throwing up, but I'll smile while imagining it instead." She released him, and he fell right back down, groaning loudly. 

"I think we should all be leaving, actually," Riddle decided, and nobody was in any position to argue with him. Inkeri retrieved her and Asha's coats from the closet, while Triton and Malfoy hoisted Lestrange up from his chair. 

As soon as the fresh air of the cold night hit her face, Inkeri began to comprehend just how much she had drunk. The girl had completely forgotten the fact that she would have to walk all the way back to the castle.

Asha gripped her elbow encouragingly. "Don't worry, I'll catch you if you fall," she giggled, clearly under the influence herself, as she dragged Inkeri accidentally to this side and that. 

Triton looked over his shoulder, sagging from Lestrange's weight. "We'll take the passage through Honeyd-dukes, It'll be faster."

"I need to go to Tomes and Scrolls," Adrielle declared. She pulled Asha towards her, and Inkeri stumbled, having lost her support. Selwyn watched Inkeri for a moment, then spoke carefully. "Come with us, Koskinen."

"Why?" Triton interrupted, coming to stand beside Inkeri. "Do you really need an entourage? Look at the st-state of her— it's not wise to drag two d-drunken women around the village so late."

"I am not drunken, but he is right, it's late," Inkeri said ruefully. She was also aware of how it would look if she fled with Adrielle and Asha; and she could not afford to look cowardly in front of Tom.  

Adrielle continued to stare at her. "Fine," she said indifferently, but looking distrustfully at Riddle. "Be careful." Inkeri wondered inwardly at the strange show of concern from the cold witch. 

"But I'm tired," Asha tried to whine, but she was in no state to argue. With that, Adrielle dragged the Ravenclaw away, the blonde girl wished to god that she hadn't. 

Riddle emerged from the Inn too now, just as Lestrange pushed Nott away. "Move, imbecile," Orpheus growled, stumbling into Malfoy. "I can walk by myself, don't infantilise me."

Triton ran his hand through his hair tiredly. "I'm not—"

"Leave them," Riddle called out, "let them stumble drunkenly to an unknown destination. Perhaps someone will do us all a favour and murder them in the dead of night." Nott's eyes enlarged slightly, but he heeded the words, and fell into step beside Inkeri. 

The girl rubbed her hands together in the cold. "I don't know the way," she admitted, and in the corner of her mind, the still sensible part of her knew she shouldn't have said that.

"It's alright," Nott said broodily, lacking his usual merriment. "I will not get you lost, do not worry."

In the distance, she could vaguely make out Malfoy's platinum hair, and faintly hear Lestrange's rowdy shouting. They'd managed to get quite far without falling off the road, but she doubted their ability to sustain it. 

The street lamps glittered more brightly now that the rain had stopped, with tiny fires flickering inside the frosted glass. The road was still wet, and the familiar smell of damp grass pervaded the air. There were few souls still wandering about so late, and the ones that did had their hoods pulled low, faces covered by shadows. 

"Well, d-did you at least have fun?" Triton asked as they walked, pulling his coat further up his neck. "I told you yesterday that there was no need to be so worried."

"Yes, well," she said, trying to think of something artful or worthwhile to respond with, but settling on "whatever."

Inkeri thought back to her recent revelation about Asha's connections with the Slytherins. It seemed as though the inscrutable group had sunk their teeth into the castle, disseminating their poison into its bloodstream and allowing it to seep through the entire school. Not a single corner had been left uncorrupted.  

"Honeydukes will be closed at this hour," Triton said suddenly with realisation, cursing with fatigue and annoyance and rubbing his weary bones. 

Riddle told them he knew an alternate passage. Like a lamb to the slaughter, Inkeri followed him and Nott off the winding, brightly lit path, and into a secluded alleyway where a singular lamp glittered cold, long extinguished by suffocating darkness. Not even the spasmodic beam of moonlight could filter through the looming buildings. 

"So if you did not go to Durmstrang," Riddle began, his voice ricocheting through the despondent silence, "where did you go?"

Inkeri let out a breath, leaving an impression of heat into the cold air. "You are back on this? I thought you'd moved past it."

"Because I find knowledge to be a quintessential asset," he continued, as though she had not spoken. "And I am beyond intrigued to learn more about this oleaginous magical discipline of yours. What did Dolohov describe it as, again?"

"Light, like liquidated rays of moondust," Nott echoed. Inkeri finally began to fathom what they were getting at, and her gut curled with a painful jolt. 

She shoved Triton out of the way as he made to grab at her, and was almost successful in her escape when Riddle grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall, her back forcefully hitting brick.

"I warned you," Tom snarled, "that I always win." 

"You are like a rabid dog with a bone!" Inkeri yelled, pulling out her wand, but before she could utter a spell, Triton had disarmed her. She tried to calm her frayed nerves. "I am nothing to you. Leave me."

"You are a threat," Riddle hissed, "while I'm not alarmed by you, I like to gauge the full extent of my enemies' abilities before I engage with them."

His hand was warm leaving a tingling sensation on her skin, contrasting the air which had turned frigid around them.

"Oh you are beyond sadistic," she laughed, anxiety turning her cheeks red, their proximity making it hard to breathe. Then suddenly, he let go of her, and took a step back.

He smiled. "That I am," he said simply. 

His dark eyes glinted, reflecting a light that wasn't there, and his dagger plunged into Inkeri's stomach. Her blue eyes widened and a sharp gasp escaped her lips as he stepped back, letting her slump onto the ground, every movement tearing through new layers of tissue and bringing a fresh wave of pain. 

Triton knelt beside her, pulling out the dagger and letting it clatter to the ground, eliciting a cry of pain from the girl. "You c-can heal yourself," he said gently, taking her hand in his with a discrepant tenderness. "D-do it, now."

Inkeri looked up at Tom Riddle, whose smile had faded and given way to a twisted expression of anticipation. The look in his eyes reflected that of a hideous creature with bared teeth, awaiting  the demise of its victim. 

She was vaguely aware of Triton's voice slowly rising with desperation. The girl was faced with a choice; one was to reveal herself and save her own life, while the other was to take a gamble and hope that this had all been a hoax, and she would not be left there to die.

The witch had always been flawed with the recklessness which coursed through her arteries. She slumped back with feigned retirement, and watched with grim satisfaction as Riddle's expression grew slowly more morbid, marred with intense chagrin. 

More words, more talking, more ignoring. After what felt like an eternity of suffering but had been only minutes, delirium began to cut loose the strings attaching her to reality. It was then that Tom Riddle finally gave in. 

"You stupid bitch," he spat, his façade ultimately crumbled. Casting a look at Nott, he turned and left, stalking back the way he came, and could vaguely make out through tear-blurred eyes the final look he cast back at her. 

Nott took a crystal vial out of the pocket of his robes, and dropped a clear liquid onto her gaping wound. It sizzled, then instantly alleviated some of the pain she was in. 

"Wow," Inkeri breathed, "you too, huh?"

"You're not w-wise like you t-think," Triton said quietly. "He will not just let it go, it isn't in his nature. All you've done is make him more obsessive."

She watched him with her pale eyes, and he averted his gaze, unnerved as most tended to be. "Good," she said coolly, perspiration matting her hair to stick to her forehead. "I'll enjoy watching him sink further into despair. He won't get he wants, not before I do anyway."

He mumbled something inaudible, but didn't seem in the slightest bit regretful. Inkeri was just regaining the strength to blast Nott out of existence, but he beat her to the chase. Pulling out his wand, the last thing she heard was his whisper in a low voice of: "Obliviate."

It was the first time Inkeri had underestimated the merciless extremities that Tom Riddle was willing to reach for his gain, but it was certainly not the last.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••