~ Immortality unveiled ~Tom Riddle x Reader 🐍🌶

Chapter 10 ~ Dark Arts~

*****WARNING: 18+ Contains decription of graphic violence and bodyfluids (Blood)*****
*UPDATED Sep. 13th.2024*

~Eva's POV~

Weeks had passed since I last saw Tom Riddle after our kiss. After every class, he slips out of the room so quickly I barely catch a glimpse of him. It makes me wonder if I imagined it—if I conjured up a connection where there was none. After all, it was only a kiss, and we are both adults.

Yet here I am, agonizing over a kiss with a man who could very well be a murderer. What if he is a killer? How do I justify the pull I feel toward him? The very thought feels like a betrayal, not just of myself, but of everything I stand for.

And just like Tom, Albus has been absent from my life. I haven't seen him in weeks either. Both of them puzzle me—Albus with his carefully guarded wisdom, and Tom, an enigma cloaked in ambition.

I'm snapped from my thoughts by a student's voice. "Professor Orlov, can we leave?"

Startled, I glance up. The young wizard stares at me with concern, as though wondering if I've lost my mind. I quickly check the time—class is over. I clear my throat, gesturing with my wand.

"Of course, all of you are dismissed. Don't forget, I expect a thesis on Rockwood with every detail you can dig up. Thirty percent of your final mark, so put some effort into it. Good evening."

The students begin to shuffle out. Evening classes are my favorite—students are too tired to cause trouble, and I can teach in peace. But as the last student leaves, the silence of the empty classroom presses in on me, along with the weight of my own unresolved thoughts.

I lean back in my chair, undoing the tight ponytail I had worn all day.

What am I doing here?

I was chosen by Albus to teach and study ancient magic, to forge a path outside the shadows. But instead, I've been drawn into some sort of twisted drama.

Albus chose Tom, I think bitterly. No one forced him. If he regrets it, why doesn't he fix the chaos he unleashed? Or maybe he doesn't regret it at all. Maybe he fears Tom.

I close my book, trying to cast aside my spiraling thoughts. Meditation, I decide, might help. Just a few minutes to clear my mind.

The flickering candlelight adds to the calm, casting soft shadows that dance across the stone walls. I sit cross-legged behind the teacher's desk, my breaths steady, trying to find some semblance of peace. But even as I slip into meditation, Tom's face lingers at the edge of my thoughts, pulling me deeper into confusion.

A sharp sound breaks through my trance, pulling me back to reality. The room is now dark, night has fallen. I glance at the door, my heart racing. How long had I been sitting there?

I grab my cloak, throwing it over my shoulders, and light my wand. The hallways of Hogwarts are always eerily quiet at night. My footsteps echo in the vast, empty corridors, adding to the sense that I am being watched. As I approach the grand staircase, the portraits are still. But there's a chill in the air—a heaviness that feels out of place.

Then, from behind me, I hear a whisper.

"You should not be here, Professor Orlov."

I whirl around, my wand aloft, the light flickering against the stone walls. "Who's there?" I demand, trying to keep my voice steady, though fear claws at my chest.

A figure steps out of the shadows, cloaked and hooded, their face hidden. Their presence sends a cold wave of dread crashing over me. "You meddle in matters beyond your understanding," they say, their voice low and dangerous. "Turn back now, before it's too late."

My fingers tighten around my wand. "I'm not intimidated by idle threats."

The figure laughs, a chilling sound that echoes in the silence. "Brave words, Professor, but your bravery will be your downfall."

Before I can react, they raise a hand, and a wave of dark magic hurtles toward me. Instinctively, I throw up a shield, deflecting the attack, but the force of it sends me stumbling back. My mind races—who could this be? Theodore, seeking revenge? No. This is something darker, something far more sinister.

The figure moves swiftly, their attacks unrelenting. Sparks fly as our spells collide, the very walls of the castle shaking with the force of our duel. I counter each curse with precision, but the weight of their magic is overwhelming. My defenses are faltering.

Suddenly, a spell catches me off guard, striking me square in the chest. I'm thrown backward, crashing into a wooden cabinet. Pain shoots through my body as I slam against it, the wood splintering upon impact. Gasping, I glance down—blood is pooling beneath my robes, a jagged piece of wood lodged just beneath my collarbone.

The figure steps closer, their dark silhouette looming over me. My vision blurs, but I can see the twisted satisfaction in their posture. They think they've won.

But then, something stirs in the chamber—the orb. Its light pulses, growing brighter and brighter, illuminating the room in a dazzling glow. The figure hesitates, distracted, and in that split second, I seize my chance. With a flick of my wrist, I deflect their magic, sending it hurtling back at them.

The cloaked figure lets out a hiss of pain before they vanish into the shadows, leaving nothing behind but a sense of lingering dread.

I try to stand, but my body betrays me. The wound in my shoulder throbs with unbearable pain, and the blood won't stop. I stagger toward the door, each step a monumental effort. By the time I reach the grand staircase, my strength is fading fast. Reality slips away as strange visions dance before my eyes—figures, voices, all merging in a confusing blur.

The hospital wing seems impossibly far. I stumble, collapsing into the arms of someone—Madam Pomfrey. Her face swims in and out of focus as she speaks, her voice distant, but filled with concern.

"Oh my... Come, quickly," she says, guiding me toward a bed.

My vision darkens, the edges of the world fading away. "Thank you," I whisper, though I barely hear the words myself.

Then, everything goes black...