Genevieve made it to the dormitory in no time, her eyes still damp as she tried to hide her obvious crying. She didn't want anyone to stop her along the way and ask her if something was wrong, especially since it was so obvious that there was. She didn't think she could bring herself to describe the humiliation she felt. Tonight had turned out to be a massive disappointment, and the last thing she needed was being questioned. 

Though to be honest, she was a bit surprised to see how empty everything was. Even though it was late at night, the corridors were completely vacant, with not even a single other student passing. Usually there was always one or two wandering around despite it being against the rules. When she was a Prefect sometimes she would be the one to tell them to go back to their dorms, but right now she wouldn't even if she did see them. 

Once she was there, she entered her room, groaning as she sat on the edge of the bed. She just wanted to go to bed. She removed her dumb faux diamond earrings, which she would have ripped off if she didn't want to hurt herself. She practically tore the seams of the dress trying to get it off. She hated it, it felt suffocating. She never wanted to wear another dress again, though she feared she would have to by the end of the year. 

She sat on the edge of her bed, letting out a trembling breath that quickly turned into a  quiet sob. Now that she was alone, she could cry as much as she wanted. That seemed to be the story of her life. She had gotten used to hiding all of her problems until she was alone. It was easier that way, though sometimes she wished she had someone to share it with. 

She supposed what hurt the worst was all the excitement that was now for nothing. Once again, her hopes had been raised only for them to plummet to the ground. She didn't know why she kept bothering. She wanted to be mad at him, for leading her on. He should have just said something to her. She would have been able to handle it if she knew, but she had been under the impression that he liked her, too. 

Why couldn't he have just told her that he was planning on bringing someone else? That would have been less humiliating than finding out on her own. She didn't know anymore, and frankly, it was too much energy to scrutinize every detail of what could have gone different. 

She was mostly angry with herself. She was angry for being so hopeful, then she wouldn't feel so stupid. She was just tired. She needed to sleep, and thank God tomorrow was Saturday. She could lock herself away in her room and no one would know any different - they'd assume she was studying, the way she usually did on the weekends. Except Lily, who would probably come by as soon as she was able to ask about how it went. 

She dreaded the idea of talking to anyone, but she didn't mind if Lily was there. She was the only person she wanted to see. 

As the sobbing subsided, Genevieve felt the tightness in her chest ease slightly as she pondered what to do. Her eyes were salty and fuzzy from the crying, and her brain was too tired to process much of anything. She may as well just sleep like a normal person. 

 As she laid down, Genevieve realized something felt a bit strange about the bed. It was perfectly made, which she never did. It was always a bit haphazard, which was due to her own neglect. She wasn't a clean freak, since she figured there were more things to invest her energy into rather than constantly cleaning. The sheets weren't the fabric she was used to - they were harder, more firm and worn with age, as if they were hand me downs.

She frowned, looking around at the rest of her stuff. It was the same, it seemed. This was the Ravenclaw dorm she was used to, she was sure of it. She wouldn't have randomly wandered into a place she didn't belong. An owl sat perched by the side of the window - an owl she'd never seen before. She knew all of her dormmates pets, and in her full seven years, she had never seen that bird.

"Who are you?" she mused, more curious than upset now. It made a sound at her in acknowledgement, but seemed bored otherwise. It seemed just as comfortable here as she did. That was strange. 

She looked around, other things began to feel strange too. Her eyebrows furrowed with concern. Elle's stuff was nowhere to be seen, and she was the one who didn't mind leaving her things around. There was no sign of Beatrice or Kyra's stuff either. Kyra's vibrant decorations were nowhere to be seen, and the cat bed that laid on the side of Beatrice's bed for Mocha was gone. 

Genevieve's heart began to race as she surveyed the room more carefully. It was like looking at a reflection of what she knew, but warped. Details were missing or out of place, as if someone had tried to recreate the space from memory but hadn't gotten it quite right. The bedding, the absence of her friends' things, the unfamiliar owl — all of it suddenly felt wrong.

She sat up straighter, her pulse quickening. This isn't my dorm. The realization hit her like a cold wave. It looked like her dorm, but everything felt... off.

Her mind raced, piecing together what she knew. That owl, those sheets, the lack of familiar belongings—none of this was hers.

The unease gnawed at her, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her fingers trembling as she reached for her wand, which lay on the nightstand. Gripping it tightly, she stood, scanning the room for anything else. 

Maybe she should take a walk, she thought. 

Maybe she would find other things that would help her figure out what the hell was going on. As she slowly went to the door, she looked around to assess the room one more time. Once again, everything seemed relatively normal - except for the fact that all the pictures that her doormates had were gone. They were replaced by other ones, with faces she didn't know. She shivered. 

"What's happening right now?" she muttered to herself, still dumbfounded by the whole thing. Maybe she was dreaming. She was probably just exhausted after the night of misery she had at the party. That had to be it. The strange owl made a sound at her, as if replying. She half expected it to start speaking English, but thankfully, it didn't. It just started at her like she was an idiot, which made her feel more ridiculous. 

"Don't judge me," she told it, rolling her eyes. Then she scoffed at herself - it wasn't like they could really understand. It made her miss Coral, her own owl. She hoped that Lily would remember to feed her if she wasn't able to wake up. 

If she wasn't able to wake up. 

Genevieve tensed at the thought. What if she didn't wake up? What if this was a strange dream that had her trapped in here forever? She was miserable, sure - but she didn't want to die yet. She still had her sister, at the very least. Lily would probably be fine without her, she still didn't want to leave her.  

With cautious steps, Genevieve wandered out of the dormitory, her mind buzzing with confusion and unease. Everything felt fragile, as if she could shatter the ground below her with one wrong step. The corridors were eerily quiet, and once again everything seemed just slightly off. The torches lining the walls flickered faintly, casting long, shifting shadows that made her feel as if the castle itself was holding its breath.

As she wandered through the halls, she noticed more oddities. Portraits that usually greeted her with familiar smiles now featured unknown faces, and some of the armor suits she passed seemed to be positioned differently. It was as if she had stepped into a slightly altered version of Hogwarts, one where everything was just a little out of place.

Her footsteps echoed in the silence as she made her way down a staircase, hoping to run into someone who could help her make sense of this bizarre situation. But the castle seemed deserted. The thought that she might be dreaming crossed her mind again, but everything felt too real—the chill in the air, the solid stone beneath her feet, the strange owl that had seemed to mock her. She knew what it was like to be awake, and she was certainly conscious. 

"What are you doing wandering around this late? I thought Ravenclaws knew better than to break the rules," a voice chimed, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She turned quickly, half expecting her to face the likes of Lucius Malfoy with comments like that, but it wasn't him. 

He was a tall young man, with dark hair and a matching set of calculated eyes. She had never seen his face before, and she was certain she would have remembered if if she had. The robes were evidently Slytherin, which was of zero surprise. All damn Slytherins were the same. 

She wasn't surprised that she didn't recognize him. It wasn't like she went out of her way to hang out with them all that often. She looked around once, as if expecting him to be addressing someone else. It became very apparent that hew as looking at her. 

She crossed her arms indignantly, pretending to not be flustered. "It's none of your business," she said indignantly. "Maybe I was sleepwalking." 

That was a lie, but he didn't have to know that. The young man's lips curled into a faint, almost amused smile, as if seeing right through her response. "Sleepwalking? Through the halls of Hogwarts, in the dead of night, and straight into my path? That's quite the impressive coincidence." 

His voice was smooth, but there was a sharp edge to it, as if he saw right through her excuse. She wasn't looking for his opinion on the matter, though. The fact of the matter was that she hadn't invited him into her space, and there was nothing she hated more than being forced to make conversation with someone else, almost as much as she hated being stood up at a party. 

Genevieve bristled at his tone, but she forced herself to remain calm. "Please, I wasn't looking for you. And as I said, it's none of your business."

The boy took a step closer, his calculated eyes never leaving hers. "On the contrary, everything that happens within these walls is my business." He paused, letting his words sink in. "So, strangely enough, I don't think we've met. I'm Tom Riddle."

Despite his insistent need for attention, he was a bit more pleasant than Genevieve had expected. She wanted to demand answers, but right now she was trying to let it settle in. She didn't know anyone by the name of Tom Riddle, and she liked to think that she knew most people in the school by now. She had even taken the time to befriend most of the portraits, and she still did not recognize the name Tom Riddle. He acted as if it should have been important, but it meant little to her. 

Self-importance. A classic Slytherin trait. They really were the worst. 

 "Right," she said as she shifted nervously. She didn't like the way he seemed to watch her with so much anticipation. "I'm Genevieve... uh, Evans. I have to say, I'm a little surprised. I didn't think I'd still be meeting people in my seventh year. I kinda thought everyone knew me by now." 

Tom's eyes flickered with interest at her words, though his expression remained carefully neutral. "Genevieve Evans," he repeated, as if tasting the name. "Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. It's rare that someone manages to slip under my radar, especially in their seventh year."

Genevieve forced a smile, trying to mask the unease that was creeping up on her. "Well, I guess I've just been good at keeping to myself... or maybe you aren't as important as you think you are." 

She couldn't help but glance at him, wondering what his reaction might be to that. Most Slytherins didn't like being challenged like that, but his response surprised her. "You're quite the clever one, aren't you? Hiding in the shadows, keeping to yourself, no wonder I haven't met you before," he said with a shrug. "And frankly you might be right, but I'm not used to people outright saying it to my face. It's quite refreshing, I must say." 

She hadn't expected to be so amused by his response, and she looked at him with a scoff. "That's because most people here are shallow and two-faced. I guess I can be too, but still." 

Tom studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp and calculating. "Perhaps. But I find that people who keep to themselves often have the most interesting secrets."

She laughed a little at that. "Please, I'm not that interesting. I just wanted to get through this year with no trouble, but it seems like that's not going to happen." 

Tom's smile widened ever so slightly, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Trouble has a way of finding people, even those who prefer to avoid it." He paused, his gaze lingering on her as if weighing her words. "But then again, sometimes it's not about avoiding trouble—it's about how you handle it when it comes."

Genevieve felt a shiver crawl down her spine. There was something unnerving about the way he spoke, as if he knew more about her situation than he let on. She tried to keep her tone light, hoping to steer the conversation away from whatever dark undercurrent she sensed. "I guess that's true. But I'd still prefer a quiet year, if that's even possible at Hogwarts. I wish it was easier." 

Tom's eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and something darker that Genevieve couldn't quite place. "Wishing for things to be easier is a waste of time," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate. "It's better to shape the world as you see fit, rather than wait for it to bend to your will. After all, the only thing that truly matters is power. And how you wield it."

Genevieve's unease deepened. She wasn't naive, but the way Tom spoke made it clear that his idea of power went beyond what most people at Hogwarts considered. It was chilling, the way he seemed so confident in his beliefs, as if he'd already figured out how to bend the world to his will. She forced a smile, though it felt hollow. "I'm not really the power-hungry type," she said casually. "I prefer my freedom."

"Freedom," Tom repeated, as if testing the word. "Freedom is an illusion. Everyone is bound by something, whether they realize it or not. Family, friends, society—each one ties you down in its own way."

Genevieve frowned, her defenses going up. "That's a pretty bleak way of looking at things. Not everyone is as... controlled as you seem to think."

Tom shrugged, unbothered by her skepticism. "Believe what you like, Genevieve Evans. But the truth is, everyone has something that can be used against them. The question is, how far will you go to protect it?"

The weight of his words hung in the air between them, thick and unsettling. Genevieve felt a surge of protectiveness, not for herself, but for Lily, for the people she cared about. She didn't like the way Tom seemed to prod at her, as if testing her weaknesses.

"I don't play those kinds of games," she said firmly. "I'm not interested in manipulation or control. I just want to get through this year."

Tom tilted his head, his gaze never leaving hers. "Perhaps that's why you're different from the others. But be careful, Genevieve. You never know when you might need to play the game, whether you want to or not."

Genevieve's grip tightened on her wand, her resolve hardening. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

Tom's smile remained, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I suppose we'll see." With that, he turned and walked away, his presence leaving a cold emptiness in the corridor.

Genevieve stood there for a moment, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort. She had no idea what Tom Riddle's game was, but she knew one thing: she couldn't afford to get tangled in whatever plans he had. She had enough on her plate without a Slytherin with dangerous ideas complicating her life.

With a deep breath, she turned and made her way toward the library, determined to focus on her real problem—getting back to her time.

****

She had made it to the end of the first day, just barely. "Wake up. Please wake up," she muttered as she stood in front of the mirror, her hand trembling. She twisted the handle, watching as the water came down onto her skin as natural as always. Everything else was in order, the physics of the world was still the same, and generally nothing else seemed to be out of place but her.

She just wanted to go back to her time. She missed Lily, and her heart ached at the thought of never getting to see her again. She wondered if Lily was starting to notice that something strange was going on by now. She wondered if there would be a missing persons case about her if she didn't show up soon. Or maybe no one would notice at all. 

Genevieve splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would snap her out of the nightmare she found herself trapped in. The coolness brought a brief moment of clarity, but when she looked up at her reflection in the mirror, the same disorienting reality stared back at her.

"How did this happen?" she whispered to herself, gripping the edge of the sink. Her mind raced with a thousand questions, none of which had answers. She wasn't just lost in time—she felt lost within herself. The walls of Hogwarts felt both familiar and foreign, like a place she knew but didn't quite belong to anymore.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to feel connected to the present, to ground herself in the reality she was stuck in. But the only thing she could think of was Lily—her sister, her anchor, her constant. The thought of never seeing her again felt unbearable. What would Lily think? Would she be scared? Angry? Or worse, would she move on without her?

Genevieve's heart clenched at the idea that she might be forgotten, that her absence might go unnoticed. After everything, she wasn't sure if she could handle the thought of being erased from her own timeline. She wasn't supposed to be here, not like this.

She turned off the faucet and leaned her head against the cool mirror, the weight of everything pressing down on her. There had to be a way back. There had to be some explanation for why this was happening. And more importantly, there had to be a way to fix it.

"Come on, Gen. Think," she muttered, tapping her fingers against the sink. She couldn't just stand here feeling sorry for herself—she had to do something, anything. There had to be a reason she was thrown into this time, into this version of Hogwarts.

Maybe it was Tom Riddle. He was too interested in her for it to be a coincidence. And the way he spoke, so casually about power, as if it was the only thing that mattered—it unsettled her. But if anyone could provide answers, maybe it was him.

With renewed determination, Genevieve straightened up, wiping her face dry. She wasn't going to sit around waiting for things to change on their own. She was going to find Riddle, demand answers, and figure out how to get back to her time.

Because no matter how hopeless it felt, she wasn't about to give up—not yet. Not while there was still a chance of seeing Lily again.