complicity [tom riddle]

iii.

14th September 1944

Thursday afternoon was quiet as per usual, students in classes or accommodation desperately trying to escape the Scottish chilly weather.

Heidi walked alongside the Bloody Baron, an unlikely friend she made during her time at Hogwarts. He was a rather tragic man who fell to the hands of suicide after falling in love with a certain witch, Helena Ravenclaw. After some time, Helena fled to Albania which made her family furious - in order to retrieve her back, Rowena Ravenclaw sent the only man who she thought to have cared for Helena, Baron. The grandeur issue was that Helena did not love Baron back. So when she refused to return with him, he killed her in a rage, then himself with the same knife.

Figures.

He never shared that story with anyone, especially not snivelling first years who pestered him with queries as to why he was so bloody.

Baron and Heidi would often speak of old and new matters at Hogwarts. She would confide in him with her darkest secrets and he, all the same. It was a mutual relationship. As he walked her to her last lesson of the day, Potions, she asked him about Tom Riddle. If he knew anything of his family history. The reason she was asking is due to a rather recent realisation that the surname of "Riddle" was unbeknownst to the average Witch or Wizard. Striking the ultimate question - how on Earth does a basically unknown Wizard smuggle his way into becoming the head of the "purest" and most exclusive wizarding society in school?

Heidi ran her hand along the banister as she travelled to the lower half of the school. "Say, Baron, what do you know of Tom Riddle?" She asked.

He paused in his movement before continuing to hover down the stairs. "I am aware that that young boy is up to no good!"

What does he know that I don't? She thought.

"Curious, but I suppose I will ask for another time. I mainly wanted to know about his background? "Riddle", it's awfully obscure isn't it?"

The pair turned a corner into the Potions corridor where seventh year students began to gather for lesson with Professor Slughorn. "It is best I not say too much now, young Witch."

"Though you agree, his last name isn't known?"

"Perhaps not, but his second name is."

Before Heidi could ask Baron dissipated into a bookshelf as the cue for classes played.

Potions has always been maddeningly interesting to Heidi, the idea that you can bewitch minds, ensnare senses, bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper to death was beautiful to her. She particularly has a preference for Professor Slughorn, she got on well with the man despite his glowing passion for favouritism, she never forgot to thank Merlin that she was one of his favourites. Otherwise, Potions would be ludicrously intolerable. Heidi often felt badly for Charlie Finnigan as he always found a way to mess up his potions, blowing them up and such.

At her table sat herself and Finnigan, her partner, who she was almost entirely sure she was the sole reason he was passing this term. Poor thing. Across from them sat, Tom Riddle and Mary Mulciber.

Today they were brewing a potion of pure liquid death, formally called - The Draught of Living Death. Charlie Finnigan's potions were deathly, that was certain, but not in the way that was necessary for today. So Heidi gave him grace and let him secretly sit out this class.

Slughorn gave his usual righteous-toned instructions and background on the potion in question and then allowed them to go ahead and begin brewing.

D R A U G H T O F L I V I N G D E A T H