Begged and borrowed time - Tom Riddle

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏

Filled with a restless determination, August stormed out of the dining hall, paying no mind to her companions and any potential answers they might have given. She walked with purpose, her steps aimless yet driven by an insatiable thirst for answers. The desire for information consumed her, overriding any consideration of seeking help from a professor, as the thought of appearing helpless once again sent a wave of frustration through her.
The more her anger grew, the more she walked.

The wind, seemingly attuned to her tumultuous emotions, tousled her hair as she continued to stride forward. Its gentle caress against her cheeks offered a subtle comfort, momentarily soothing her racing thoughts. Lost in her own world, August found herself standing upon a stone bridge, oblivious to the passage of time and unaware of her current whereabouts.

With a newfound sense of calm, she began to walk at a slower pace, her focus shifting to her surroundings. As she moved forward, the hushed whispers emanating from a nearby corridor caught her attention. Intrigued, she decided to approach, hoping that within those murmurs lay the key to uncovering her current location and perhaps even shedding light on the latest mystery that surrounded her.

As August turned the corner, her eyes widened in recognition when she saw Dumbledore standing before her. A smile instantly graced her face, as he was the perfect person to meet when one faced a dilemma. However, her excitement was tempered by the serious expression on the headmaster's face. Sensing a weighty conversation, August instinctively hid behind a nearby pillar, hoping to remain unnoticed as she eavesdropped.

She listened intently as Dumbledore conversed with another familiar voice, that of her Transfiguration teacher, Minerva McGonagall.

"Albus, are you certain it is safely kept?" Minerva's voice carried an undercurrent of concern and caution.

"Of that, I am certain, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, his tone tinged with worry. "What concerns me is the size of the stone, for I do not remember it being that small." His eyes mirrored the same apprehension that August had witnessed on a fateful night in January.

"What are you suggesting?" Minerva's voice held a hint of incredulity. "No man could possibly have entered. We have guarded it with all our wisdom, utilizing the..."

"That I know," Dumbledore interjected. "We can only hope that no single individual has managed to pass the tests guarding it. In which case, it means that perhaps the stone has not been taken but was never whole."

Before Minerva could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. Realizing she had to blend in and maintain her cover, August retreated, disappearing like a cat hidden amidst a field of flowers. Her mind buzzed with questions, her curiosity now piqued by the cryptic conversation she had overheard.

As August found herself engulfed in the sea of students, she turned towards the corner of the wall, her gaze fixed on the receding figures of the professor and the headmaster. Regret washed over her as she whispered to herself, "Shoot, I missed my first flying lesson." She brought a hand to her head, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

Amidst the bustling crowd, a familiar pair of figures approached her, one clad in black and the other in white. Pansy, the black-haired witch, wrapped an arm around August's shoulders, nudging her to walk with them.

"We missed you," Pansy said, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief.

August offered a small smile and replied, "I felt a bit ill and decided it was best to skip class... especially flying class."

Pansy continued, her voice laced with excitement, "You missed a big dispute between my Draco and that Potter." She reached out to touch Draco's chest, eliciting an indifferent response from him as he averted his gaze.