You explore Tom Riddle's journey into becoming Voldemort in his younger years in the role of Eva. You discover his desire for immortality, his motivations and his relationships... Could the future have been changed? Albus Dumbledore uses you as a sp...
I wander through a forest, the air thick with something unseen, something following me. It feels like the Forbidden Forest—alive, watching. An owl's cry pierces the quiet, echoing through the darkness, and I realize it's not part of the dream but the real world calling me back.
Slowly, I open my eyes, my body stiff and aching. Disoriented, I find myself on the couch in my room. I sit up, blinking at my surroundings, trying to recall how I got here.
A heavy blanket falls from my shoulders, and I freeze as I notice the oversized coat wrapped around me. It smells familiar—rich, unresistable. I pull it off, examining the expensive fabric more closely. My fingers brush over the inside, where I find something that sends a shiver down my spine: a small, embroidered label reads Lord Voldemort.
Who?
My head throbs as I try to piece together the fragments of the previous night. It feels like a blur, a dull memory just out of reach.. All I remember is falling off the boat.. and..Theodore apparating.
I scratch my head looking through the room trying to memorize the previous night. I think slowly I'm becoming dull to it.
What did he do there? And most important, why was I there? I wonder to myself as I continue with my morning routine, despite the pain still lingering in my body.
Dressing myself is a challenge, but I persist, finding comfort in wearing my corset—it feels like a shield, containing all my emotions as I push through without time to grieve.
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Fixing my makeup, I pull my long black robe over my dress, securing it with a waist belt. As I'm washing my hands in the sink, I recall crawling out of the water, helplessly wandering, falling and.. and someone approached.. Everything black afterwards.
Still pondering about who helped me the previous night, I stroll through the corridors of Hogwarts, exchanging greetings with students and teachers.
Suddenly, a firm tug on my elbow pulls me out of my daze. My hand instinctively reaches for my wand, ready to defend myself, but as I glance up, I soften at the sight of Albus.
"Albus!" I scold gently, regaining my composure. "You shouldn't startle me like that."
"My apologies, Mrs. Orlov," he says with a warm smile, though his eyes hold a different kind of seriousness. "I didn't mean to catch you off guard. I was just wondering if you've had a chance to gather any information for me."
I blink, confused. "What information, Albus? I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to be looking for. And I haven't seen Mr. Riddle in weeks; he's been scarce after classes."
Albus, visibly troubled by my words, sighs. "Mrs. Orlov, I know of your expertise. I am well aware of your capabilities. And - I will clarify. Come with me," he says, extending his hand.
Hesitantly, I follow him as we apparate suddenly. My stomach churns in discomfort.
