𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔫

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔦𝔵

𝕶𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖆'𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖛

      When my eyes flutter open, I am greeted by three figures standing over me. I jolt up, my hand going for the dagger at my thigh, and put it at the throat of the closest man.

      "Hey, calm down," a familiar voice says, and I turn my head just enough to see a familiar blonde. "Where are we?" I ask, my voice coming out raspy and quiet.

      "You are at Hogwarts; School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," a new voice says. Turning my head slightly to the left, I see an old man with a long, white beard looking down at me, his hands clasped promptly in front of him.

      When I realize that I am no longer in my homeland, my eyes flutter, and a strange feeling overtakes me. I feel this warmth in my chest at his words. I made it out of Russia. I made it...

      I slowly remove my blade from the blue-eyed boy's throat. "Apologies. It's a reflex," I murmur, and settle back into the bed I'm in. I turn to Rhysand to ask him how he managed to apparate to fucking Scotland, but he tilts his head ever so slightly, warning me not to say anything.

      I glance at my shoulder and see that it is healed. I glance up at Rhysand and he looks at the teenage boy in answer. I also see that my tattooed hand is no longer tattooed. It looks as it did before. Plain. Inkless. Did he cast a concealment charm on it?

      He nods his head in answer as if he knew what question I was asking myself.

      "I assume you have questions," I say, redirecting my gaze to the old man.

      "I do. I wanted to wait until you were awake to ask them. But first, I would like to introduce myself. I am Professor Dumbledore." After he finishes his sentence, he gestures to the blue-eyed boy next to him. "This is Tom Riddle, the young man who found the two of you within the wards of Hogwarts." And the boy that just had my dagger at his throat.

      I glance at the boy before looking back at the old man.

      "I'm Kritana. This is Rhysand," I tell him, making sure to leave out our last names. His last name is very powerful as he is in the top five most powerful pureblood families, and my last name is very rare. Anyone with it has a very good chance of being related to me.

      "And you are Russian, yes?" the old man asks. I nod. What gave it away? The accent, the dagger strapped to my thigh, or the vodka in my backpack?

      "How old are the two of you?"

      I glance at Rhysand before turning my attention back to the professor. "I just turned sixteen. He is seventeen."

      "In three days. I'll be seventeen then," Rhysand interjects.

       The professor straightens, his eyes narrowing. "And the two of you managed to cross the forests of Russia alone at that age?"