the seven virtues [tom riddle]

chapter twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

WARNING: Be advised that this chapter contains blood, knife usage, descriptions of battle and slight torture, as well as mature scenes

The sound of metal slicing through the air permeated the extensive clearing of the woods. The dagger nailed the target in the center, having it swing slightly from the branch with a faint creak. Varya picked up another blade from the basket behind her; then, with wrath throbbing in her veins, she turned around and launched it without checking the perimeter first.

Elladora barely managed to stop it from piercing her skull with a small spell, and porcelain features scrunched with aggravation before she flicked her wrist and had the knife pinned in the soil between them. Cherry-hair was braided in two tails, and she had renounced her uniform and skirts for something more appropriate for dueling.

"You are in a sour mood," she asserted as a matter-of-fact, earning a scoff from Varya, who sat down on the grass to catch her breath, "Riddle still refuses to speak to you?"

The Eastern witch pressed her tongue against her cheek, eyebrows raising in a jeering manner, and she reached out to her bag to pull out her water flask. The liquid soothed the burning in her throat, and she closed her eyes, trying not to think much of Selwyn's words.

Two weeks had passed since Tom had brought her to the Chamber, and he had not reached out to her once since his slip. As a matter of fact, the boy had submerged himself in work in an attempt of appearing too busy to be reachable—compiling lists of the pupils they would train, taking on responsibilities from Dippet, dissecting their textbooks.

Varya had refused to find him first—her dignity would not have her do the chasing again; it was too frustrating. Instead, she worked on her magic, overthinking everything that had been established of their teams.

"When is Felix bringing the students over?" inquired the Eastern witch, changing the subject entirely.

Elladora took notice of it, but let it slide out of courtesy. Instead, she pulled out a pocket watch from her training jacket and frowned at the time. It was noon, and the Death Eaters had decided to set training every Saturday around such times. Around thirty students had agreed to sign up after Rosier had persuaded them with his unnaturally developed socializing techniques, but most of Hogwarts was still reluctant.