The Boy Who Cried Wolf -- [Tom Riddle]

5 - Observations and Calculations

Early in the morning of her first day, Goldie awoke with a start.

There was a gentle hum of chatter and noise from the hallway outside of her dormitory, more experienced students beginning their day much earlier than her. Practically dragging herself out of her bed, she got to her feet and stretched until her back released a few satisfactory pops.

Glancing around the room, she noticed that Lysandra was already gone, her bed made and clothing organised. Goldie felt a stab of annoyance; why had the experienced girl not woken her up?

Forcing the thought aside, Goldie grabbed her uniform and slugged to the bathroom, where she freshened herself up with freezing water and got dressed. Gazing into one of the mirrors, she found that she quite liked herself in black, green and silver; it certainly suited her features much more than the alternative house colours.

Returning to the dormitory, she felt yet another spike of annoyance at the fact Lysandra had not stayed to help her find her way to her first class. Had she not agreed to it? Already she was displaying unwelcoming behaviour.

Goldie did not understand. Why was she so unlikable?

Gathering her sparse textbooks and her wand, she exited the dormitory and made her way into the common room. Silence overtook every conversation like a plague, all eyes on her.

Unnerving.

Remaining strong, Goldie offered a smile to the nearest group of judgemental peers, who ashamedly averted their eyes. Taking a deep breath, she began to cross the dim common room, watching the snakes in the paintings interact to distract her from the piercing eyes following her every move.

As she approached the entrance, she spotted Lysandra sitting with the group of boys Goldie had observed at dinner the night prior. Their gaze was the most striking of all, each of them conveying something different.

The first, Ashon Rosier. Goldie knew him from spending time around his aunt, Vinda Rosier. He had a similar facial structure as her, but the disgust in his eyes was not familiar.

The second, Vincent Lestrange. The eager friendliness of his little sister was a far cry from the condescending glare fermenting on his expression, staring down at her like she was nothing but an old wrapper left to gather mold.

The third, Nathaniel Avery. Unlike the previous two, his expression was sullied by a common distaste, rather than unconcealed hatred. It did not take him long to return to the textbook on his lap.

The fourth, Lysandra Rowle. For someone who should have been friendly and welcoming to her new roommate, the blatant irritation in her furrowed eyebrows was a contradiction. As quickly as Goldie spotted it, Lysandra covered it with a sweet smile.

The fifth, the boy she did not know the name of. With rich brown hair and matching, honeyed eyes, the slightly disturbed look in them set her on edge. Unlike his companions, he appeared almost excited, but with an undertone that could not have been friendly. When she momentarily made eye contact, a sickly grin erupted across his face.

The second, the blonde she did not know. He observed her with a dislike he barely tried to conceal, although she could sense any undertones. He simply did not like her, despite never having met her. Goldie suspected it was just blood purity.

Finally, Tom Riddle. Unlike the students surrounding him, he met her eyes with a perfectly calm expression, seeming completely unruffled. Surrounded by the open dislike of those around him, he appeared as a light in the dark, someone easy to gravitate to. Someone who would be pleasant. Someone trustworthy. Goldie, despite her intuition, felt it was harmless for now to believe he was a decent person.