The Prophecy ~ A Tom Riddle Story

Betrayals and Diarys

You couldn't bring yourself to look more closely into the prophecy, for everytime you saw anything pertaining to it flashes of Tristan and his harsh words flooded your already uneasy mind. You spent the rest of that week sitting alone in classes and during food times, glancing over at the boy occasionally, who, you noticed, was sitting alone as well.

In fact, there were a lot of things you noticed about Tristan you hadn't before. At your tiny glances or passings in the halls you saw how he clenched his fists tightly around every corner, or how his eyes always sparkled when a certain boy passed his way, you noticed how him and Clara were now distant and you hoped, despite your hatred for the both of them, that they hadn't broken up. You noticed the bags under his brown eyes, or the slight smirk he gave when he got a question right. After all these years, maybe there were some things you still didn't know about the boy you so fondly used to call your best friend.

You were sitting in your common room that Saturday, alone by the fire with a muggle book propped against your leg. You were curled up in a comfortable sweater and leggings, reading about the tales of Percy Jackson (crushing hard on Luke, no matter how bad he was) when a girl came over and cleared her throat in front of you. You looked up, slightly annoyed at the interruption, but saw Clara staring back at you. "Hi" you say cautiously, not sure how good of terms you're on with the girl, "Hey" she says, Clara was always quiet and reserved, but she had a certain sassy flair to her words. "Can I sit down?" She says motioning towards the seat next to you. You shrug silently and she takes it as a yes, plopping herself down beside you and looking over. "You aren't at Hogsmeade today" she says, tilting her head towards you, more of a statement than a question. Today was a Hogsmeade weekend for any students above their third year, but you had gotten bored of the little town fairly quickly, having visited it so many times. "Nope" you say, a small smile dancing on your lips as you shake your head "You aren't either" you say lightly changing the subject back towards her "I wanted to stay in today" Clara said awkwardly, and you could tell she was dying to get to the real subject of conversation she came her for. "So" you say, your eyes squinting slightly "Why did you really want to talk to me?" "Well" she starts, looking away awkwardly "I wanted to know about Tristan" you sighed heavily, suspecting it might be something of this sort. You took the book you still held in your hands and closed it, setting it on the side table between the two of you. "What do you want to know?" You say tiredly, facing towards Clara who had looked back up towards you.

"Did you guys get into a fight?" She asks, not delaying anymore, but getting right to the topic. You take a moment before nodding your head lightly "You could say that" Clara looked at you skeptically at this, but didn't go into it further "Why do you care?" You ask after a moment "Because Tristan and I broke up" she says, a note of sadness in her light voice "Oh" you say, slightly surprised, so this is why they weren't sitting together "It was mutual" Clara says, although you suspect it was more Tristan's idea "He's been..." She trails off and you finish "A jerk? Distant? Untrustworthy?" Even you could hear the bitterness in your tone at these words "Distant" she agrees, "I think somethings wrong with him" you look at her, debating this for a moment "I don't care what's wrong with him" you say determinedly "He said stuff to me I can't forgive" you say biting your lip, "But Aoibhe-" Clara says, reaching for you, but you get up, moving away from her "If you're worried about Tristan, figure it out yourself" is all you manage to get out before walking away, leaving a stunned Clara behind you.

You leave the common room, your eyes watering but no tears falling, and head down the hall. You don't know exactly where you're going, only that you need to get away from this place. The plain grey stone walls feel like they're closing in on you as you start to run down the long hallway and up the stairs from the dungeons. You're only able to stop when you reach the top, and the light from outside pours into the long staircase. You turn over and sit on the stairs, running your fingers through your hair and trying to steady your heavy breathing. You didn't know why you felt trapped, but you just knew you had to get out.

You turned around slowly and got up off the stairs, moving into the brightly lit Entrance hall. You wanted to go outside but your clothes were not properly suited for the towering snow spread across the lawns, and so instead you head up the marble staircase and into the twisting hallways of Hogwarts.

You had a place on every floor you frequently went to in order to calm yourself down, and as you moved on the staircases you knew which place it would have to be today.

There was an odd comfort to this room, you couldn't quite explain why you liked it so much, but you stepped cautiously into the tiny broom cupboard on the 2nd floor. It was a cozy fit at you positioned yourself between the shelves lining the closet walls. You felt squished in the area, but not as you had in the dungeons. You couldn't quite explain why you felt so calm in the tiny area, yet so paranoid in those halls. But as you sat in the broom closet you felt your heart beat go back to normal and your body relax in the darkness.

You sat there for at least an hour, listening to your pulse and hearing the distant walking of students coming back from Hogsmeade, and it calmed you. Eventually you realized the time and decided it'd be good to go back to your common room. You moved out of the tiny closet and down the hall in the opposite direction you came from, thinking it'd be nice to take a different route. You were just nearing the stairs down to the the entrance hall when you felt your sock sink into something cold and wet. You jumped back and looked at the ground, realizing what you had stepped in.

All around you was water, coming from a singular door to your left. You immediately recognized it as the abandoned girl's bathroom, or as most of you called it, Myrtle's lavatory. You were about to walk around the puddle when you heard the familiar sound of the ghost girl crying from inside the bathroom. You thought for a moment before reluctantly stepping into the flooded room, deciding it might be fun to poke fun at the ghost before dinner.

You entered the bathroom and felt as the spilled water splashed around your ankles and soaked into your robes. You saw Myrtle sitting in the U bend, up by the only window lighting the small bathroom. "Who's there??" Myrtle said, turning her head to face where you stood "Come to throw more things at me?" You considered this for a moment before speaking "I never threw anything at you" you say, a smirk coming across your face, "But I might now that you mention it" "Oh, it's you" the ghost girl says, reading your face "Who threw something at you, Myrtle?" Your voice more condescending than kind "I don't know" she replies, a slight weep coming from her lips "I didn't see them! They just threw that book at me and ran!" And she points down at a black leather-bound book, sitting on the soaked floor.

You reach down to the book and pick it up, shaking off the wet cover and quickly realizing it was no ordinary bool, but a diary. On the side gold initials are carved in "TMR" you read quietly "Well if you don't want to throw it, then leave!" You heard Myrtle screech from where she sat at the window. You ignored the girl, staring down at the diary. You felt like the initials were familiar, but you couldn't quite place them. You flipped through the diary, and was surprised to see the pages all blank. Who would throw such a thing?

It takes you a moment before you're broken out of your trance, realizing that Myrtle is talking again "Well get out!" She yells at you and you look up at her one more time before leaving the bathroom, the diary clasped in your hands.