PRAETERITUS - 𝕊𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕦𝕤 𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝔻𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣

25 - A Dive into the Past

꧁•⊹25٭ A Dive into the Past٭⊹•꧂

Olivia had spent the past hour in the library. In a trance like state, she had stared at the floor contemplating what she should do next. Uncooperative, her mind had replayed Fred's face the moment he'd found the diary, frozen in horror, staring at her as though he'd never seen her before. A gasp pulling his features in an ugly terror. But was he scared for her... or of her? It was the latter that pulled her mind under, down into the twisting sea of her deepest insecurities.

The small, dark journal lay closed in front of her, its still pages tempting her to delve in. She watched it unwaveringly, half-expecting it to come alive, moulding into the tall stature of Tom Riddle himself. Who she now knew was Voldemort.

It was a name she had heard before, mentioned casually in conversation or whispered as horror stories to scare the first years. But he was little more than a mythical creature to Olivia. The tall tales of a curse rebounding from a baby Harry and killing the evil man seemed far removed from reality, and nothing like the sheltered boy she saw him as.

In light of his true identity, the similarities between her at Tom were harrowing. Orphanage. Abandoned. Withdrawn. Slytherin. Was she doomed to be like him? Or was he simply trying to find his own truth in a dark and twisted world? The crippling need for her own answers burned bright inside her. How far would she go...

No, she couldn't go there.

Desperate to quiet her revolting mind, she snatched the diary from the floor, unable to wait any longer. She needed something from him. Some sort of closure or explanation to shake the wary feeling of his duplicity that clung to her bones.

𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒.

The page was still for a moment, before the familiar black writing curled across the page.

𝔚𝔥𝔬 𝔞𝔪 ℑ?

His words seemed taunting almost, as though daring her to say his name. Her hand revolted as she wrote the single word.

𝒱𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓉.

𝔜𝔢𝔰.

Coldness clawed through her at the admission.

ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔙𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔗𝔬𝔪 ℜ𝔦𝔡𝔡𝔩𝔢. ℑ𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢?

Her mind wanted to shout 'Yes!'. That there had to be a difference between the damaged boy that she knew and the savage beast of Voldemort. But her heart was unsure. Could he have become so bad?

𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚?

The words appeared big and black on the page, staining her vision with their imprint and ringing through her ears.

She snapped the book shut, shooting to her feet and racing to the door. 

Who was she?

Voices around the corner had her slamming to the side, her frayed nerves demanding she stay out of sight.

"-no not there." Harry's familiar voice sounded uncharacteristically worried.

He and Ron were coming into view, both of their faces scrunched in fear. Noticing their expressions, Hermione, who had been heading towards the library, scurried over to them.

"Are you alright? Has something happened?"

"Have you seen Sirius?" Harry asked, "Fred's trying to find him. Something about Olivia and Voldemort."