Glimpses of Light

VI

Snow had begun to blanket the grounds of Hogwarts, turning the world outside into a muted expanse of white. Nika Miron watched from the window of the Astronomy Tower, her thoughts as tangled as the branches of the frosted trees. It had been days since Tom Riddle asked her out, and her mind was still reeling.

Why did he ask me? Of all people? The question gnawed at her. Nika's refusal was instinctive, driven by a mix of anxiety, pain, and a strong desire to keep distance from anything reminiscent of her past. Riddle and his friends particularly embodied this threat, especially after Dolohov had revealed their disdain for Mudbloods. This revelation had triggered her protective instincts, compelling her to reject any involvement with them to avoid being drawn back into the dark memories she was still struggling to leave behind.

And then there was Lucy—sweet, vivacious Lucy—who had a not-so-secret crush on Riddle. I can't betray her trust, she thought, her resolve strengthening. The friendship she shared with Lucy and Milly was invaluable. She desperately needed friends, especially at Hogwarts, especially now.

As the weeks drifted by, a chill settled over Hogwarts, both meteorological and metaphorical. Riddle's penetrating glances across the Great Hall during meals became a constant undercurrent to her days. His stare was cryptic, probing, as if he were trying to decipher her from a distance. And he wasn't alone in his scrutiny; Mulciber's eyes, too, often found her, adding a layer of discomfort to her already strained existence.

On a particularly biting Saturday, Nika found herself among the spectators at a spirited Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Wrapped tightly in her scarf, her eyes roamed the field, tracing the daring dives and sharp ascents of the players. The sight stirred something within her—a dormant passion for the game, reminiscent of her days as a seeker at Durmstrang. I was good. I loved it. The thrill of the chase, the rush of capturing the snitch—memories flooded back, piercing through the cold with their vivid intensity.

Caught in her reverie, as the game concluded with Gryffindor's victory, she barely noticed Antonin Dolohov approaching until he was almost beside her. "We need to talk," he murmured, guiding her away from the crowd to a secluded spot near the pitch.

The wind seemed to bite deeper with Dolohov so close to her.

"Riddle asked you out, didn't he?" Dolohov's voice was tense, a thread of anxiety woven through his words.

Nika nodded, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck. "Yes, and I said no."

Dolohov exhaled, a gust of visible relief in the cold air, but his brow remained furrowed with worry. "He might try again. And Mulciber... watch out for him too. Keep saying no."

His next words carried a sharp edge. "Why do they even fancy you?" He trailed off, his gaze judging her nonexistent curves. The implication hung unspoken in the frosty air.

"And practice Occlumency," he added in a whisper. "Riddle is dangerous. He tried to probe my mind last night while we were all drinking in our dormitory. He passed it off as a game, but it wasn't— he was searching for memories related to you. I didn't give him the satisfaction of finding anything real, just fed him some made-up memories of our past, but he didn't look too satisfied. He'll try again. You need to be prepared; he might do the same to you. He's kind of obsessed."

The mention of Occlumency sparked a new kind of fear in Nika. The thought of Riddle invading her thoughts was chilling.

As Dolohov spoke, his voice dropped to an even more hushed tone, the kind that conveyed both fear and a grudging respect. "I dare say he's much better than Freddy at Legilimency. Way better," he added, his expression a mix of admiration and nervousness.