His Story {Tom Riddle}

Chapter 7

Trying to recall whatever knowledge or memory I have from my years of Harry Potter fandom, I make my way through the castle towards Professor Dumbledore's classroom. He's teaching metamorphosis, a subject I should not be learning, being in sixth year. However my magic skills for now are very (extremely) limited. 

I enter the classroom, it's completely dark. I cannot see much but I believe it's empty. I take a few seconds to cast away the thoughts of my very recent interaction with Tom Riddle. I close my eyes, and steady my breathing. He might be insanely handsome but I need to remember he's a future murderer, I need to resist his charm. 

My eyes are slowly adjusting to the darkness in the room. I can barely detect rows of benches and tables, leading to what seems to be a desk and a black board? 

I look around me, I really am alone. I hesitate. 

If no one is going to see me fail, then why shouldn't at least try? 

I take my wand out of my pocket, feeling its imposing texture. How weird, to think that such a small piece of wood could hold so much power. 

Will it work? Or will I finally realise I'm completely tripping? 

Raising the wand up to my face, I recall the way Tom pronounced the spell earlier. I clear my throat. 

'Lu-' the sound of my broken voice startles me. 

It seems to loud in this silent and empty classroom. I chose to whisper, too afraid to speak up. 

'Lumos' I manage to say in a rasp. 

Immediately, the tip of my wand produces a ring of light. I stare at it, stunned. 

I can't believe it worked. Am I really a witch? 

I decide to explore a bit more. Looking around me, I realise the room is too big for such a small source of light. Instinctively, I project the light off my wand, and into the ceiling, letting it get bigger and bigger until the entire room is now entirely covered with a soft white glow. 

This classroom is beautiful, the furniture is all made of some dark wood, and the stoned walls and ceiling make it look like some church-like place. It is a divine way of learning, I can tell straight away. The new light allows me to inspect every inch of the room, from the door I used to enter to the front, with huge windows giving out on the night. 

 Suddenly I see see a figure sat on the desk chair at the front. I let out a small yelp. 

The figure rises up, and into the light. It's Dumbledore. I immediately feel relieved. He claps his hand to me, smiling. 

'I knew you would find your first spell on your own.' he tells me, 'But I never would have guessed you would realise it so well on your first try.' 

He truly looks impressed. I feel a slight blush rushing on my cheeks. He doesn't look at all like the Dumbledore I pictured, the headmaster from the 1990s. No, he looks young, athletic. He has styled his brown hair in messy curls, wears a funny smile and has those same piercing blue eyes. 

He snaps his fingers and all the torches in the room flame up at once, making me shiver. Alright dude, we get it, you're good...

'Your situation is really fascinating, Cleopatra. You've never practiced magic and yet, look at you. Casting this spell as if you'd always have. How did you do it?'

'Erm, I guess I already knew the spell by its name.' I try to explain, 'It just seemed right to do it like this.'

Professor Dumbledore nods to my words, taking it all in.