A Game of Cat and Mouse

T H R E E

The sounds of delicate piano playing echoed through the house. The keys seemed to be telling their own story, a sonata detailing of love, of loss, of life. Emotion poured through every note, each stronger than the last. Anyone who heard it could say how beautiful it was, that the playing somehow brought tears to their eyes whenever they heard such talent.

This was a regular sound at Riddle Manor.

"Annalise!" a woman cried out through the home. She heard the sounds of the piano so she would know exactly where the girl was, where she always was.

In the library.

Annalise Riddle could almost always be found either seated at the bench of the expensive grand piano or on the bench overlooking the rose gardens with a book in her hand, the family cat by her side. Today, it seemed, she had chosen the piano. Her mother would be smiling when she entered the room. She loved it when her daughter played. It was too beautiful not to love, even on occasions like tonight when they were so incredibly late.

Evelyn Riddle walked into the room—as indicated by the echoing sound of her heels—and stood behind her daughter. She placed her hands on Annalise's shoulders and kissed her cheek. Annalise smiled but didn't stop playing. She wouldn't unless she had to. "Darling, I love your playing but we must make haste," her mother murmured.

Annalise ceased her playing and sighed, staring down at hands that felt so empty without the keys underneath. "Do we have to?"

"Yes, Annalise," her mother said because she never called her Annie. "You know Aunt Astoria has been begging me to bring you to one of these and I promised you would go."

Annie sighed and followed her mother out of the room. She was already dressed and prepared to leave, knowing that she wouldn't win any argument about going, not that she would put one up anyway. She didn't like confrontation enough to do that—such a stark difference from the rest of her family, who had all been, at the bare minimum, an accomplice to murder at one point in their lives. But, she supposed, that just came with being a part of the Dark Lord's family. Death and destruction were like their version of family game night.

"You don't have to dance with anyone," her mother continued, seeming to guess her daughter's reservations. "And you don't even have to speak with anyone. All we have to do is arrive and Astoria will be satisfied."

Annie didn't like parties. She didn't like crowds. She didn't like people. So a three-day masquerade ball? That was far from something she would like. Very far, indeed.

She didn't enjoy talking to people. She didn't like the small talk as they looked at her either with disappointment, realizing she was the less beautiful, softer version of her mother or with fear as they remembered her father was the most powerful wizard on the planet. Plus, she wasn't good at talking to people. She never seemed to know what they wanted to hear, always shutting down the moment they began to ask her questions. Shy didn't seem to cover what Annie was. More like terrified of everyone outside of her family.

Terror was a natural emotion for someone related to Tom Riddle to experience, though, usually, it was directed at them instead of the other way around. But Annie had spent her whole as the baby of the Riddle family. Her father and brother were very overprotective of her and even her mother insisted that there were many dangers in the world, things that could destroy a girl like her who could barely defend herself against a teasing older brother. She was small, not very good at magic, and utterly naive. It didn't exactly make her confident in the world, especially when her mother had gone through hell and back when she was younger and Evelyn was even stronger than her daughter. They all repeated how someone would easily take a girl like her to get back at her father. Hearing things like that constantly, how could she not be afraid?