Begged and borrowed time - Tom Riddle

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏: 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓

Mrs. Weasley woke everyone early that morning. Once in Diagon Alley, August decided to buy Harry a present for the previous night and something for the Weasleys to show her appreciation for their hospitality. They agreed to regroup in two hours at Flourish and Blotts.

August found herself lost in the enchanting chaos of Zonko's, exploring shelves lined with fantastic products that promised misbehaviour and laughter. She decided to surprise the Weasley twins with a selection of prank items- a nose-biting mug, insulting parchment, and vomit-flavoured juice. Satisfied with her choices, she casually tossed the items into her bag and made her way to the front door, eager to immerse herself Diagon Alley.

Upon stepping outside, she was enveloped in the kaleidoscope of magical life that painted the streets. Robes, cloaks, and hats of countless hues adorned the passersby, creating a visual feast of colours that manifested the enchanting world of wizardry. Yet, within this vibrant tapestry, her attention was captivated by an intriguing anomaly- A tall young man, dressed in a black shirt and black trousers, moved with purpose through the cobblestone streets.The dark circles under his eyes hinted at a summer that had veiled him in shadows, as if the sun itself had chosen to avoid him.

With a quick decision, she ducked behind a nearby pillar, ensuring she remained unnoticed. In the busy Diagon Alley, where everyone was occupied with their own affairs, nobody seemed to notice Riddle's subtle movements. He glanced around before discreetly slipping into an alleyway. Amidst the lively scene, only August caught his mysterious act. She entered the street, increasing her pace to catch up with the elusive figure. As she turned a corner and hid behind a wall, she observed Riddle engaging in a conversation with a hooded figure, their hushed words veiled in secrecy. Something about the scene felt off, and her instincts told her that Riddle was up to something potentially concerning.

Perhaps it was boredom, the ticking clock, or an inherent distrust of Riddle from the beginning-whatever the motivation, August found herself with an hour to spare before meeting up with the others. Watching Riddle engage in a secretive conversation had stirred a curious itch within her, pushing her to follow him.

She trailed the wizard to an antique bookshop. Tom Riddle stood inside, like a shadow navigating through the pages of a hidden narrative. His meticulously combed black hair framed a pale face, his features exuding an air of quiet elegance. As August watched, a flash of paranoia—or perhaps genuine awareness—made the tall boy glance out the window. Heart pounding, she crouched low to the ground, letting out a small shriek. A passing witch cast a perplexed glance her way. Panicking, August forced a strained smile, hoping to appear nonchalant but likely achieving the opposite effect. Embarrassment burned on her cheeks as she tried to blend into the bustling crowd.

After a brief moment of contemplation, she cautiously raised her head, peeking out in all directions until her gaze settled on the boy she was following. He delicately ran his fingers over the spine of a book before plucking it from the shelf.

When he left the shop, August shadowed Riddle through the winding streets, her curiosity fueled by a desire to uncover the motives behind his unusual behavior. The facade of the admirable boy, carefully crafted for public consumption, faded away in these private moments when he believed himself unobserved.

As he crossed streets and vanished into narrow passageways, Flamel quickened her pace to keep up. By the time she reached the same corner, however, she had lost sight of him. Sighing, she looked to her left in search of him. Just as she turned back to her right, the boy seemed to emerge from another passageway, his dark attire standing out against the vibrant colors of the crowd.

Determined to keep pace, she mirrored his every step and pause, engaging in a silent dance of pursuit through the labyrinth of Diagon Alley. The narrow passages and crowded streets formed the backdrop for their clandestine game of cat and mouse. When Riddle stepped into Knockturn Alley, August came to an abrupt halt, her gaze freezing with a mix of fascination and unease. Mrs. Weasley's warning about that place echoed in her mind, but curiosity overpowered her caution.