A Russian fugitive with power like no other. Though strong, powerful, and wickedly smart, secrets lie deep within her heart, mind, and soul, haunting her to this day. Those very secrets will chase her until they catch up to her. She may have thought...
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𝔎𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔞'𝔰𝔭𝔬𝔳
"What do you think this is about?" Rhysand asks, taking a step forward so he can be next to me. "Summer break," I answer. "Today is the last day of school. They probably want to wish us a happy summer."
His eyes widen. "Today is the last day?" I nod. "What are we going to do?" he asks.
"Dumbledore spoke to me earlier in the hallway. He wants to see us after the announcement," I answer. Upon seeing my stoic expression, Rhysand asks, "why are you so calm?"
"Because there is no use worrying about something we don't know we have to worry about," I answer. "I've done enough of that already."
Over the past two weeks, I have been avoiding Tom like the plague. I have only just recently stopped worrying about what we are after the night we shared, and I made a vow to not worry about things I cannot change. Because of that, I am less stressed and having more fun.
Headmaster Dippet steps up to the podium, and the students around us begin to quiet. Once the chatter is nearly gone, Headmaster Dippet clears his throat. "Students of Hogwarts, it has been a challenging year with many unfortunate events. Events that have caused pain to so many of you." I cast a glance at Rhysand, raising a brow. Almost nobody knew the girl that died in the second-floor girls' lavatory. Headmaster Dippet is acting as if she was a popular girl, and everyone is saddened by her loss. The reality is she was a nobody that was bullied by the few people who noticed her existence. And it was that very bullying that sent her to the bathroom the night of her death.
The bullying done by a girl named Olive to be specific.
A girl who mysteriously left the school three days ago because she kept seeing Myrtle Warren. She nearly went insane because she kept seeing her dead and bloodied.
"Thanks for stealing that Polyjuice potion for me," I smile, glancing at Rhysand. He smirks. "Who knew you hated bullies?"
"I don't," I mumble. "I hate bullies that cost people their lives. Indirectly or directly," I tell him, scanning the crowd, looking for Rosier. Rhysand had told me the night we made up that Rosier did not know about Tom Riddle's plan to steal the book at the Rosier estate. Rosier had asked Rhysand why I hadn't spoken to him in months, and Rhysand told him. That was when Rosier assured that he had no part in the plan to steal the book, and Rhysand believes him, so I do as well.
