in his wake | t.r [ongoing]

Chapter 4 - Edgar Smith

Chapter 4

Edgar Smith

Edgar's early impressions of Tom Riddle were undefined, more like a smudge in his peripheral vision than someone worth paying attention to. During those first few Astronomy lessons—huddled under the crisp night sky with parchments scattered across the observatory floor—Riddle had barely spoken, his presence almost spectral.

He simply blended. Quiet, commonplace, the sort of boy you forgot about as soon as class ended. He wasn't loud or brash or even particularly curious. He was just there.

But now, over a month into term, Tom Riddle had started to stand out.

It wasn't immediate—he hadn't transformed overnight. But Edgar had started noticing him more often. Not because he demanded attention, but because he seemed to glide through the chaos of Hogwarts with a quiet certainty. As though he was always headed somewhere that was far more important than the conversations and events that unfolded around him.

And then there were the answers.

Edgar shared two classes with the Slytherins: Herbology and Astronomy. Tom spoke rarely in class, but when he did, his words carried a weight that had started to make people listen - especially the teachers. It wasn't just that his answers were correct—they were exact, delivered with a calm precision that left little room for argument. Edgar had even flipped open a textbook once and found the information Tom had seemingly memorised, though he'd spun it in his own way so as not to simply recite it word for word.

In Herbology last week, Tom had offered a solution to one of Professor Beery's notoriously tricky questions when no one else had. It hadn't just been right; it had been perfect. Even Beery, perpetually sullen and seldom impressed, had stopped mid-sentence to beam at him. That had been the first time Edgar had really looked at Tom Riddle. Properly looked at him.

But his perception of him changed entirely when they were paired up for a project.

***

Edgar liked the night. The quiet of it, the coolness of the air, the way Hogwarts transformed under the stars. In daylight, the castle was all grandeur and bustle, its hallways alive with laughter and arguments, with robes swishing and books thudding onto desks. But when twilight fell, it felt older—more like the ancient place it truly was, heavy with the weight of centuries.

He liked Astronomy, too, though not for the reasons most students did or because he was particularly good at it. While others were thrilled at the idea of reading omens in the stars, Edgar appreciated its order. The constellations didn't change; they stayed where they were meant to, following patterns that made sense in a world that so often didn't.

"Today," Professor Sinistra announced, her voice sharp and clear, "we will be starting our work on the collaborative project I mentioned at the beginning of the term. Over the next few weeks, you will be paired with a classmate and will chart key constellations' seasonal trajectories, culminating in a presentation and analysis. This will count toward your final grade."

Edgar's stomach twisted.

He wasn't fond of group work—not because he didn't try, but because he always seemed to end up with the wrong kind of partner. The kind who left him to do all the work. And then there was the matter of the Slytherins.

Edgar had heard the stories. Everyone had. Slytherins were ruthless, ambitious, and willing to do whatever it took to get ahead. He didn't know how much of it was true—most of it sounded like the kind of nonsense people his age whispered about in corridors for fun—but the idea of being paired with one still made him uneasy.

"Edgar from Hufflepuff and Tom from Slytherin," Sinistra called, her voice brisk and impersonal.

Edgar felt his skin flush as he turned toward the back of the room where Tom Riddle was seated.

Tom rose and approached the workstation with the calm confidence Edgar had come to associate with older students, not first-years.