Disclaimer: I don't own it, the brilliant JKR does.
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In a world where every corner is bursting with unworldly enchantments and magical entities, it seems as though an enigma should not even be a possible existence.
But sometimes those who are in the core of an environment are the ones who are blinded. Surrounded by magic, in a world within a world where a puzzle should not seem to be alive, is where this story begins.
It begins with the enigma of a boy with a cloudy future.
It begins with the riddle of love, and love's subsequent sacrifices.
Darkness can envelop even the brightest light, and because it could, it did. It eclipsed the small flicker of love and passion that had ignited in the very heart of evil.
Yet evil would come to prevail, and that small flame would flicker out in the frigid wind of apathy.
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Seeing the castle for the first time opened her eyes wider than they had ever been opened before. The letter had been a shock that had flooded her with emotion. Though she had told herself that it was all a dream, she had still taken the bus ride to the train station. Though she had told herself that it was entirely ludicrous to try and walk through a completely solid barrier, some force had urged her to.
The hissing of the scarlet train as she hoisted her trunk into a carriage frightened her. She did not know where she was going, or what she was doing, but there was some reassuring feeling in the atmosphere that seemed to speak to her and tell her that it had been the right decision.
Even if it all turned out to be some horrible misunderstanding, she would in any case be thankful for a warm meal before she was banished back to her old life of hunger and cold, alone on the streets.
Her black robes were second-hand, paid for by the school's extra fund, and her books were shabby, but as she read through them, her world opened up.
She barely knew anything of her parents or family. Her life had been spent in and out of shelters and foster homes. She had lived a miserable life, but when the mysterious letter had been flown into her hands by a large owl, a tiny glimmer of hope had erupted in her chest, that perhaps, the mysterious life that she was headed to might be better than her old one.
It felt like a blur, seeing the castle for the first time while gliding along the lake, walking timidly up the stairs to the castle where they were greeted by a friendly-looking professor with auburn hair, sitting on the three-legged stool while anxiety racked her bones, until the hat called out 'Ravenclaw!' and the table had applauded as she sat down.
It's all a dream she told herself as she sunk into the soft bed layered with heavy and warm blankets. She pulled the deep blue hangings down and drifted off into what felt like a perfect sleep, into an unknown tomorrow, but a hopeful one.
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Tom Riddle awoke and yawned. Yanking apart the green hangings, he made his way still sleepily to the bathroom. He peered at his fifteen-year-old reflection in the mirror, trying to wake up. Five years had passed since his first evening at Hogwarts.
Five years, and he had become more brilliant, more powerful, even more handsome than any other student who had ever walked the halls of the school. His shiny prefect badge glowed on his chest as he made his way to Slughorn's class. Potions was his best subject, except of course for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
But he never told anyone that it was not defending himself against the Dark Arts that he found so fascinating, it was the Arts themselves. He took a seat and gazed across the classroom, observing his peers with his usual eerie stare. He knew most of them, the load of dunderheads. But his eyes lingered on a girl that he did not know. He knew that she was quite brilliant, and her potions almost always turned out as well as his.
It is a shame, he thought to himself, that the girl was not a Slytherin. She may have proved to be an interesting addition to his group of followers. She may have been useful.
His attention then shifted from the girl to Slughorn, and he soon forgot all previous thoughts as he took down notes and manipulated them to try and make a potion even more powerful. He was jerked out of his reverie when he heard Slughorn call his name.
His head snapped up, "Yes sir?"
Slughorn began to speak and ask a question about antidotes to poisons, Tom did not pay much attention. When Slughorn finished, Tom spoke.
"I would simply shove a bezoar down their throats, sir."
Slughorn looked at Tom for a moment in amazement before he began to chuckle and mutter something about Tom's brilliance. Tom rolled his eyes. It was then that the music made him look up. No, it was not music, but a small laugh coming from the girl that he had observed earlier. He looked at her in amazement...not many people ever laughed at what he said.
He had not even meant for the bezoar comment to be funny, but after he thought about it, he supposed that it was somewhat humorous. He spent the rest of the class not taking notes, but looking at the girl. He supposed that by a teenage boy's standards she was pretty, but he had never pondered attraction. Tom's only attractions had ever only been to darkness and power.
When the bell signaled the end of class, he rose. In the rush to get out of the classroom, he found himself next to the girl. He let her pass through first, and as she did, she gave him the smallest of smiles. It was a very kind smile, and one that effected Tom as nothing else ever quite had.
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The next few weeks passed uneventfully, and as always, Tom threw himself into his work. But when silence struck, and in the heart of the night, his mind would sometimes return to the smile in the potions dungeon. It was a puzzle to Tom, smiles. He felt that they were frivolous...unnecessary.
The girl was in his transfiguration class as well, and he could not seem to stop his eyes from traveling across the room to where she sat with her other Ravenclaw friends. Little flecks of sunlight danced atop her bronze hair, and Tom could not help but notice the fine lines of her oval face and the blue eyes that twinkled inside of them. He tried to tear his own eyes away, but something held them.
He kept watching from a distance until he felt a different set of eyes watching him. He glanced up to see Dumbledore looking at him. Tom quickly brought his eyes back to his own paper and seethed. He despised the old professor. Dumbledore seemed to watch Tom's every move. He could feel it at meals and in the halls, and he knew that the man did not trust Tom.
Tom knew that he had a true talent for putting on a facade. It was not difficult to make people like and trust him, but Dumbledore was the one who would not crack. He glanced up again in time to see Dumbledore's eyes travel from Tom to the girl. A look of concern etched itself into the lines on his face.
The class ended, and Tom hung back briefly, until she passed. He held the door open for her, and as she passed through with her friends, she once again smiled at him, and it was as though something changed inside of Tom. He took a deep breath and left the classroom, but with a glance back, he saw that old Dumbledore was still following Tom's back with his eyes as the teenager left the classroom.
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A/N: This is my first Harry Potter fic, and it's just a little idea that I got one day. I will most likely continue it. It won't be very long, perhaps only four or five total chapters I think. Anyway, thanks for reading, feedback is always most appreciated!