Hogwarts: a school of Witchcraft and Love (Tom Marvolo Riddle x F!reader)

Chapter 05-14

Lizzie was unaware.

Lizzie was unaware that the very next minute, from the darkness behind her, a black something emerged. Right behind her back with a glowing wand lined up against the back of her skull.

Your features, soft and so often endearingly putting up the I'm so done with this crap look shifted into something... Different.

It was you, but not. It was not you. Your hooded eyes had some kind of haunted shadow to them, and each low breath left your chest in small puffs of cloudy air.

That was all your body could feel. Cold. A frosty chill pumping through your blood, spreading like a virus, buzzing painfully. It wasn't like the normal warm magical feeling of a light touch brushing just under your skin. This dreadful feeling was as though it was waiting for the chance to spill over, making you little more than a conduit for something that overwhelmed you.

The instrument fired a great pulse of that negative energy, too quickly, too suddenly, not giving Elizabeth time to even turn around. She dropped like a fly. In the midst of it all, a second light so bright you struggled to see the person of purple and blue, appeared.

"Put the wand down this instant," said the person, without preamble.

Dumbledore. You hadn't even noticed him. The sorcerer was here with you, light blue irises connecting with your (E/C) ones that were devoid of any and all of you.

Guardian of the Castle indeed. The first person you expected to appear, though not that fast, he had more than earned the title. The determination to protect and safekeep, the softness and kindness which made up your hearts...

Wasn't there in this version of you. Only in the wizard who was standing with a level of severity that'd make you think you'd just killed someone.

"You have been going to this school long enough to know that attacking anyone for non-educational purposes is of great misdeed." Was what he added with the highest level of seriousness.

Although Dumbledore always had a friendly and inviting aura about him, he seemed to be much more intimidating now than you ever saw him. It was in the way he held himself. The way he talked. There was no one that could ever hope to imitate the mix of power and righteous aura around him.

Fearless and rash and reckless-those qualities radiated off your own. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. He won't let me."

Outside your thoughts, the two onlookers weren't sure of what was happening.

Until they were.

"On behalf of who are you speaking?" The wizard spoke carefully, his tone betraying the image he was trying to present.

Albus was not to let favoritism overcome severity. The way his finger twitched and he frowned at the wood held between you spoke volumes more than his voice ever could.

He was angry. But there was something else in his eyes.

Dumbledore was worried.

For every step he took forward, your breathing picked up. Worry clouding his senses and strong in his magic, your palm had gone stiff around the object you used as a channel through which your magic passed. The well from which your powers were drawn felt like it was overflowing.

That aside, the students of the school were more than just students to Dumbledore. Especially in situations like this, it was clear. It would be almost impossible to notice the near-constant glint in his eyes until it was gone.