Solving Riddle (Harry Potter Fan Fic)

21. Wool's Orphanage

Almost done with school, and (sadly) this book. There will be a sequel by the name of.... RUTHLESS! Hehehehe another play on words... okay, before I entertain myself too much, I'm going to start the chapter. Also know, the first few chapters are up for serious editing so i'd reread those chapters when I tell you they are done. Enjoy.

A dim light shone in a cluttered office. Papers were stacked everywhere, pads of scribbled on parchment were thrown on a cabinet, and old Daily Prophets lay on an open space on the desk. If one were to say the resident of the office were organized, they'd be dreadfully mistaken. The door leading into the office opened abruptly and in strut a tall woman with dazzling blonde hair pulled back into a professional bun wearing woman's pinstripe suit and a stout man with a grey twine suit and a grey fedora hat with a black toothbrush mustache.

"As for some advice, I'll tell you, people are so easy to manipulate when you have power and are well respected. They bend like plastic," the woman sat in a chair at the head of the desk, studying the man with a calculating stare, "It's a muggle material, they make cups out of the stuff,"

"Mr.Hawthorn..." the woman smirked mischiviously, "are you suggesting I manipulate others to get what I want?" Mr.Hawthorn gave her a knowing look from under his eyebrows.

"You should exercise caution, however," the woman nodded, deep in thought, "and always remember, the Daily Prophet could be your friend if you reveal what you want them to know," Mr.Hawthorn winked and waltzed out of the office, leaving the woman to gaze up at a dark corner of the office where a spider spun its web meticulously, planning its every trap for it's gain.

I awoke suddenly, I had another of those visions in the night during my sleep. The month of may came to an end abruptly, then June started and everyone was studying for either their O.W.L's or their N.E.W.T's and (though less seriously) the end of the year exams. I was studying harder than anyone else in their 7th or 5th year, even Tom, who has been starting to disappear at random times. Not that I needed study much, I had a wonderful knack of memorizing information the second I hear it. However, this ensured I received top marks on my papers.

It was Saturday and our last trip to Hogsmeade, Riddle didn't want for me to go and I wished to study alone in the library. Mary was becoming increasingly worried about me, her eyebrows were constantly knitted together and a frown became permanent on her face. Solitary is what I became, only speaking to Riddle and the Professors. Professor Dumbledore pulled me aside on day after class and asked me questions about my feelings. However, there was one thing on my mind for the rest of the term; speak to nobody, trust nobody, constant vigilance.

This was because of the attacks on students. They became more frequent, I didn't know why or how this was happening- although the memory of the night with the snake was often relived- and frankly, I was scared.

"Stop saying that! I hate you, Olive Hornby!" Myrtle's high pitched, screaming voice tore me out of my thoughts and back to the real world. Rolling out of bed, I let my body hit the floor so that I could get up and get robes on to get Myrtle to cut it out. Once my tie was tied correctly, I strode out of the 7th year girls dormitory to find them.

There was a large group of girls and boys surrounding Olive Hornby and Myrtle, "stand aside, move! I'm Head Girl, move!" eventually, I was able to get everyone out of the way and take Myrtle my the arm, leading her away to the bathroom. "Furnunculus," I whispered and whipped my wand down, curving its path in the middle.

Immediately boils sprang up all over Olive's once perfect face, kids began to laugh and jeer and Myrtle, who I had clutched a fistful of robes so that she couldn't do anything but follow me get out a giggle and looked up at me in appreciation. It wasn't because I cared about Myrtle's feelings, mostly because Olive needed to feel the pain of being a laughing sport. Really, I hated all of them, no sense of maturity.