the seven virtues [tom riddle]

chapter twenty-three

THE ANATOMY OF SCARLET NORBERG - HUMILITY

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Auburn locks tickled Scarlet's face, and she turned in her bed, the thick sheets dampening her skin from the unbearable heat. She was not used to such lavished bedding, and much preferred the wooden boards and thin mattresses she used to sleep on in the Scandinavian mountains. Her throat was quenched, and it burned aridly as the witch puffed out an irritated breath, laying on her back and staring at the ceiling.

Scarlet pushed herself out of bed, ignoring the way her muscles still ached from her earlier training with the students, having dueled with Icarus yet again. It had been less bloodied, but with each day, the boy was coming into mastering his metallic fingers, wielding his words and weapons with enough precision that her arrows rarely scratched his skin.

She made her way down the stairs, nightgown covering her legs up until her knees, and puffed sleeves making her move awkwardly. The witch was used to plain, modest clothes—there was no need for pompous garments in the woods, where one loose string in a corset was the difference between hunting and starving.

Throughout her whole life, the Blood-Witch had been taught to value modesty and virtue, following the moral compass of her coven throughout everything. And although she was not one to deny the reckless merriment of cheap thrills such as debauchery and delirium, there was a strange purity to her. As such, Scarlet Norberg was the virtue of humility.

The witch stopped by the ending of the stairs, eyeing the empty chamber with apprehension. She pressed her tongue against her cheek, then walked towards one of the windows, eyes trained on her surroundings.

The Gryffindor dorms were incredibly odd for her—draperies of red and golden, stuffed pillows of delicate feathers, portraits and tapestries that hung on the walls and watched her with inquisitive eyes. An enormous fireplace decorated the center of the Common Room, divans framing it, and the ground was covered in a patterned carpet that extended to most of the room.

Still, the tower had an outstanding view of the stars, so she positioned herself on the edge of the tall windows, hand pressed against the cold glass and eyes trained on the sky. There was something peculiar about the nuanced apollos as they scorched the dark cerulean, galaxies of wonders that spiraled through the endless universe, broken pieces of cosmos.

Viridescent eyes fell on the courtyard, where nightfall had pulled a duvet of concealment over fauna, and darkened trees lined the outer limits of the Hogwarts castle. There, the witch saw something—almost translucent skin moving through the trees swiftly, the frame of a human, yet hunched over as bones swelled through the epidermis.

"What the fuck?" she mumbled, and then leaned in further, trying to catch a glimpse of what she believed to be an incredibly ill student. The person seemed to disappear into the blackness of midnight, leaving no trail behind, and Scarlet drew in a sharp breath, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her.