CHAPTER THREE

"why is there only one light, but two shadows? do you think something else inside me has awakened? i'm a little monster. be afraid of me, i make you suffer, i make you dream about me only."

irene&seulgi - monster

The Slytherin dorms glowed green, the lake shining through the windows. Varya stared at the creatures that swam in the deep water, their bodies coming so close to the window that she had to hold her breath. The fire crackled behind her, its sparks dancing around the room. The soft smell of burned wood triggered unwanted memories.

She shivered, pushing back the thought. No, she had left that place. There was no need to dwell in the past, but how could she not? Hogwarts reminded her of everything she had been deprived of. She reached into her robes' pockets, pulling out her wand and twirling it in her hands. Her finger skimmed the edge, testing the rough feeling of the wood.

Her mind drifted to what had happened earlier, and a soft whimper went past her lips. After realizing the boy standing in front of her was her target, Tom Riddle, they were escorted to their chambers, instructed to wait for their class schedule. As they made their way down the halls, she watched him carry himself with an incredible amount of elegance. Every smile and every word were so meticulously calculated that Varya felt her bile rising to her throat.

Growing up around darkness, the Petrov descendant knew all of its forms and tricks, and Tom Riddle was filled with it. She recognized it in the small eyebrow raise when he saw her looking at him, in the way his chest slightly went down as if letting a scoff barely escape past his lips. The worst of all, however, were his eyes. They turned a midnight blue as he observed her, questions swimming in their depth.

They did not speak, and Varya tried her best not to dwell on his charming appearance. How could such a beautiful face morph in that of terror and evilness? When Dumbledore told her of Tom Riddle, she did not know what to expect, but it definitely was not a lanky almost eighteen-year-old boy with a Veela descendant's face. There was remarkable beauty in the curves of his profile, as if he were a figment of Oscar Wilde's imagination, a perturbing mirage of what could have been a faultless being. 

Of course, she supposed it played to her advantage. Many creatures that lurked the Romanian woods would often take the form of a beautiful human, luring their prey and making them feel safe. There was such deceit in beauty, a sinful call to those of weak mind.

The door of the chamber opened slightly, a redheaded girl making her way past the threshold. She stopped in her tracks, her brown eyes falling on the other girl that was looking out the windows in wonder. For a second, she debated on her thoughts on Varya Petrov, on the enigma that she was.

With most wizarding families, there was a clear trend in their beliefs. Most pureblood families valued their genetic family tree, found themselves superior to muggles, and thought that Grindelwald's fanaticism was valuable. Although they did not necessarily support him outright, it was a known fact, especially amongst Slytherins. But what of Varya? Why was she hidden for all those years, leading the Dark Wizard to believe that one of his most devoted bloodlines had perished in the battle? There was an oddity in that thought, pieces of an intricate puzzle that mushed together to form a distorted image.

The girl cleared her throat, making Varya turn around. The Eastern witch recognized her from the sorting, as her eyes went to her delicate frame. She was made of scarlet threads, wove by the blossoming cherry trees of spring, with wine locks contouring bewitching feature. A girl made of siren songs, one that would have had sonatas written about her unmistakable grace if she had been born centuries ago. There was fiery defiance in her, crafted from burning flames of the underworld, and honeyed irises lacquered over with astonishment.

"Hello," said Varya, unsure how to start a conversation, "I suppose we are roommates."

The girl nodded, making a decision on the spot. Better befriend those you cannot understand than have them surprise you with a knife in the back. "I suppose so. Elladora Selwyn is the name, but most people use Ella".

She set her wand on one of the nightstands beside her bed. She gestured to the furthest bed towards the right, "That one is yours. The one on the left belongs to Ivy Trouche, although she will not be here much. Her boyfriend found a way to sneak her past the guards on the stairs. Lucky her, I suppose," murmured Elladora, thinking of her roommate's relationship.

"I see," Varya drew on, sitting on her bed. She relished in the soft mattress, a newfound appreciation for sleep making its way to her mind. "They said we would get our schedules tomorrow."

"Yes, at breakfast. But I can already tell you a few of your classes," Elladora said as she handed Varya a fifth-year class list. "And I suppose by the books standing on your desk that you are also taking Care of Magical Creatures and Study of Ancient Runes. Interesting choice, could not be mine, though."

"What are you taking?"

"Divination and Arithmancy, my family has had Seers before. I guess it's a demand," she shrugged.

Her words did not linger in the room, not even when darkness crawled through closed curtains, and somnolence weighed down on Varya's eyelashes, and she fell asleep to the sloshing sounds of the Black Lake clashing with the outer walls of the Slytherin dorms—her new residence. 

***

Her first class the next day was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a course which she dreaded. Elladora had told her that the teacher, Galatea Merrythought, would often assign duelings on the first day of class so that she could assess the students' level.

As they made their way to the room, Varya noticed that the two houses that were present were Slytherins and Gryffindors. After witnessing the room's palpable tension, she turned towards Elladora, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Ah, Gryffindors," Ella frowned, casting a glance at the rowdy mess of red and golden. "We do not get along with them. They are a sack of arrogant and reckless creatures; I sometimes wonder if they all share one brain cell between the likes of them. Otherwise, I cannot explain the lack of self-awareness."

Watching her roommate's face wrinkle in disgust made Varya let out a laugh. "I do not know much about Hogwarts, to be fair," she admitted.

"You should visit the library, then. I believe reading Hogwarts: A History would help your mind rest."

Varya made a note of it and then followed Elladora as she sat at a desk near the front. As she put her books on the table, she noticed platinum hair. Abraxas Malfoy was eagerly chatting with his deskmate, explaining what his family had been up to during the summer.

"Well, I went back to visit my family in France at their manor," his friend admitted, taking out a quill and placing it near his parchment.

"Rosier, you should really consider talking to your family about us visiting for Christmas break, I believe Tom wants us there to -"

The teacher walked inside the room, much to Varya's frustration - could she not have waited for a few more, so that Varya could hear or Riddle's plans? Speaking of Tom, her eyes sauntered across the room until they settled on a black-haired boy in the front row. Of course, she narrowed her eyes; he is a teacher's pet.

Merrythought halted at the front of the class and then sent all students and their chairs to the side with a wave of her wand. Varya gripped her seat as the magic forcefully pulled her back. She watched as the tables rearranged themselves to form a platform in the center of the class.

"Welcome back, students," her voice sounded in the room, making Varya straighten her back. The professor walked towards the center of the chamber, looking at the students, "I will save you from hearing a welcome speech. I believe that you are well acquainted with this class. Today, I want to see you duel using the spells that you have been thought until now."

Varya followed the rest of her classmates as they sat up and approached the center, waiting to be paired. "Malfoy, you can go with Riddle. Selwyn, pair up with Weasley." the teacher kept going on, as Varya watched Tom and Abraxas casually greet each other. So they were friends? "Petrov...you will be with Lestrange today."

Varya eyed the boy that now stood in front of her, regarding her with nothing but an arrogant smirk. "Icarus Lestrange," he said, tilting his head with mock courtesy. The girl drew in a deep breath, already annoyed at the boy's demeanor.

When it was their turn to take the stage, Varya could not help but feel the sinking sensation of nervousness overtake her. Albus Dumbledore's warning of their prohibition on dark magic was a hot iron on her memories, and she pondered if her defensive spells were enough to have her duel. She knew little of the required movements, although she presumed them to be similar to those of her hands. As Icarus Lestrange let wicked eyes fall upon her, the witch felt her guts twist with apprehension, and they raised their wands.

The professor raised her hand, "Three, two...".

Icarus sent out a jinx towards her, yelling out "Impedimenta," which she barely managed to avoid by jumping to the side. She briefly looked back at the Gryffindor that was now being helped off the floor, having been in the spell's way. To her surprise, Icarus approached her and yelled out another attack, as if he were machinery of war, his mind cogs twisting and turning with each spell "Locomotor."

A chair flew out as Varya ducked her head, throwing herself to the ground. She tried using her wand to cast a shield, but her panic made her movement sloppy. She quickly got back to her feet, looking at Lestrange, who has mischief dancing in his eyes.

She realized that he was the type to tease and trick and play with his opponent before truly doing any damage. He was not trying to knock her out, but instead, get her moving and raise her stress level. And he had succeeded.

With a huff, Varya put her wand back into her pocket. She had to rely on what she already knew, she concluded; otherwise, she stood no chance in front of the wizard. Icarus raised an eyebrow at her and said sarcastically, "Do you surrender already? Have those years spent in hiding made you that much of a coward? Perhaps you should join the first years, although even they have more spirit than you."

"Not quite," she barked back, angered by his claim. She sent a stinging hex his way with a wave of the hand, which Icarus barely managed to block. Shock struck his features as she watched the girl cover ground faster and faster, sending out multiple spells his way. His shield was barely keeping up. The class watched, absorbed by the skilled use of magic, and even the professor found herself impressed. Icarus sent a panicked look towards Malfoy, the other boy nodded knowingly, covering his wand as he sent another knocking spell towards Varya, making it seem as if she had simply tripped on her legs.

Taking her momentary confusion as an opportunity, the boy waved his wand again. "Diffindo," he yelled towards the chandelier, seizing it and letting it fall towards the girl. Varya looked up, casting the Reducto spell and sending the chandelier into bits all over the room, as multiple students launched protective shields. Then, she pointed her hand at Icarus, who was letting his shield fall and muttered "Stupefy" and watched as he stopped moving, frozen by her spell. Then, with a final wave of her hand, she knocked him off the table, sending him flying to the ground.

The adrenaline left her body, her breath finally slowing down as she stood up to her peers' applause. "Such an interesting duel!" said Merrythoguht, obviously excited by the advanced use of magic. "Ten points to Slytherin!".

Varya made a step to get off of the table, but a hand flew out to her, reaching out as an invite to help her down. She looked in the deep eyes of Tom Riddle, surprised by his actions. He smiled at her, but it did not quite reach his eyes. Her eyes flickered to his hand. "I am alright, thank you," she hopped off the table, missing the slight spark of annoyance in the boy's face.

"Quite a show," he said, and Varya was taken aback by his voice. "And here I was, thinking that I was the only student capable of wandless spells."

There was passivity in his voice, the striking assurance of a man who discerned himself to be a god amongst commoners, as if he had witnessed two children toying with their first spells. His eyes flickered with haughtiness, and it struck a chord in the prideful witch, who knew that she possessed knowledge that the dark wizard was ravenous for.

"I suppose this is the advantage of training at an academy for dark arts," she said nonchalantly, a jab at his audacity, and a subtle brag that would have his thought linger on her. The change in his demeanor was unmistakable; as if lightning of epiphany had struck his psyche, making the gears turn voraciously until his only focus could be the knowledge rooted deeply in her cerebrum. 

"Dark arts?" he probed, following her to the corner of the classroom. "That is fascinating."

"Yes, eastern European magic is quite different." she mused, sounding as if she was in deep thought. The boy watched her, analyzing every slight move. Under his eyes, she felt vulnerable. Then, a slight pain knocked at her temples, as someone tried to enter her mind. She quickly strengthened the wall around her mind. Legilimency, she shockingly concluded.

Once again, annoyance covered Tom's features, like the flicker of a short fuse, yet he stomped it out with a charming grin that would have appeared marvelous to those who had not seen his future, yet was nothing but crazed to the witch. He cradled his weaponized intellect and alluring appearance, placing them on display for any wandering eye that settled on him, and destroying their suspicions. It was comical, almost, to have the knowledge of what he would become deeply sewn into her memories, yet stare in the face of a seraph facade, a man encompassed by an optical illusion of holiness. Light had the malleable quality of deceiving the human brain, and Riddle utilized the glimmer of aquatic eyes to his best capability.

"My name is Tom Riddle," he continued, his charm almost fooling Varya as he moved around her graciously, made of feathers and grace. 

"Varya-" she started.

"Petrov," he finished, "Yes, I know. I am sure everyone does. Well, Varya, perhaps you should tell me more about your school sometime."

Varya fought back the urge to roll her eyes at his apparent flirtatious nature, knowing too well that it was only a form of manipulation. The bell rang, signaling the end of the class. "Or, perhaps, I should not," she said, sweet sarcasm dripping from her tone.

The sting was almost palpable, and even as she gathered her textbooks and stuffed them in a leathered pouch half an hour later, she felt Tom Riddle's sheer wrath like a slap of danger on her neck. Sometimes, waking up a sleeping dragon was the only way to have it reveal its cave of golden theft.