𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 || H.P

𝟒𝟔

Life is something we often take for granted.

Water drops and dewy rain, to the liquid in the pensieve that coated my face.

Tom Riddle was not a stupid man. His moves were strictly calculated. Everybody knew of him, but they don't know anything at all, not really. Not even his closest of relatives.

Not even the girl who, on many occasions, slept under the same roof as him.

"What did you see?"

Cicely. Cicely. Cicely.

Oh damn you, Cicely!

"Miss Shallow, are you quite alright?" Dumbledore couldn't have been quieter.

It was now that I realized how dim the room was. It wasn't my vision, it was the glare that made it seem more cramped than it was.

Harry's hand fell loosely along my arm; at times tugging, looking for a response.

"Miss Shallow?" Dumbledore repeated, and it was clearer this time.

I felt disgusting.

"Why?" It's all I could think of.

Harry's eyes darted frantically back and forth. "What did you show her?"

"Why' what, Miss Shallow?" The professor asked as if Harry was just a fly buzzing around the room.

I couldn't look at him. Mostly because I couldn't see anything at all. "You knew everything."

His tone had not changed the slightest. "There is little I do not know, Alicia."

"All these years, you knew. Why did you make me wait so long? Like a clueless fool used for experimenting?"

"I do not believe you are a fool."

"How could you not?" My eyes adjusted to the cyan light hitting his face. "It's my lack of knowledge that you decided to take advantage of."

Harry scratched his head. "I'm sorry, I think I missed something-"

"Oh, Miss Shallow, if it wasn't for the tutoring, would you be here right now?"

Silence.

It was raining now. I could here the pattering noise against the ceiling.

I frowned at the ground. "You weren't in one of the memories, Dumbledore. It was just a girl and-

Cicely. Cicely. Cicely.

"I've told you once," the professor insisted. "There is little I do not know."

Tom Riddle, I supposed, got his skill and tactics from Dumbledore.
-

'What are the symptoms of drinking unicorns blood?'

I had no means to dwell over such a simple question. Certainly, our NEWTs wouldn't be quizzing us over second year knowledge.

Greed. Pain. Insanity.

The gift of immortality had no value when compared to the effects. Pain can be found easily. Greed is an unfortunate, yet common human trait. Insanity is an offer from time.

For example, Voldemort is a complete lunatic. But once, he was a quiet boy who spent his days scribbling in a notebook.

I am aware of somebody else who enjoys scribbling in notebooks.

Perhaps, over time, I could live up to everyone's expectations.

Insanity.

I wondered if Professor Binns would be able to make out my answers which were covered with rough sketches and ink.

There had to be a way to take a break from all of this. A way to get rid of this irking headache that has been stuck with me for days.

The owls hooting from the entrance of the Great Hall certainly didn't help.

I barely ever received mail. Anything my parents had to say to me could be communicated through facial expressions and sneers.

So, when a small envelope landed beside my untouched breakfast, I was hesitant to do anything.

Clean and sharp, with the Shallow family seal embedded in the middle.

It can't be bad.

My mother was probably trying to 'prepare' me for her next scheme. But when unfolded, I found the handwriting to be smaller than hers. Messier and splotched.

Alicia,

I count the days until I get to see my daughter once again. It certainly has been some time. Your mother and I-

I nearly chocked on my eggs.

'Your mother.' Third person.

Your mother and I have private matters to discuss over holiday. Some which do not concern you. It will be a rather calm break. Mostly...

Please note that we have heard of your scandals at school and one more step beyond the line— you will wish the holiday did not exist. It was not pleasant news to hear after being back.

But, you must know that I am not entirely full of hatred. It has been much too long since I've seen my daughter— over a year!

My eyes scanned over the parchment a plethora of times. Reading over the more questionable parts, but avoiding the areas I refuse to believe. I noticed, 'we' was used multiple times. And- I just saw my mother a couple months ago. How could it be possible? How could someone like him escape such a treacherous situation-

Right when I thought it couldn't get any worse, my eyes fell on the signature.

Your father,
Aster Shallow.

Insanity.