riddle ▷ Tom Riddle Era

M E M O R Y

The dark halls seemed eerily familiar to Arabella as she prowled across the carpeted floors of the first floor. The carpet was worn and tinged red but it was better than the cold stones of the dungeons where the Slytherin common rooms resided. 

Mostly, Arabella found the cool stone comforting beneath her feet but sometimes it sent chills up her spine. The plush carpet was soft between her wriggly toes and the warmth seemed to warm her chest. Immense happiness blossomed as she thought of Edmund, walking these carpeted floors once again - but with her. One day, Arabella thought, one day, he'll be better and will never have to sleep one more night in the hospital wing ever again. 

Arabella often found herself, wishing for Edmund's company. He radiated positivity, and in his situation, Arabella found herself jealous of the happiness Edmund seemed to be able to pull out from inside himself. For the past week, since waking up in the strange room on the seventh floor, she found herself feeling lost - like something was missing. It was a strange feeling. One she couldn't seem to shake. 

Suddenly, the sound of light footsteps appeared and Arabella quickly whispered, "nox," and pushed her body tightly against a dark wall. From the end of the hallway, a light rounded the corner and the sound of robes swishing penetrated the silence. 

Edith Waters, one of the sixth year Ravenclaw prefects walked straight past Arabella, not sparing the wide-eyed fifth year a single glance. Arabella was surprised - her heart was beating at a million miles per minute. Breathing heavily, Arabella slumped down the wall nervously. Something about this night just felt so familiar. Hands shaking, knees trembling, Arabella dipped her head into her hands and felt water splash onto her palms. 

She was crying.

Almost angrily, Arabella swiped her forearm across her cheeks and glared at the damp smears that trailed her pyjama sleeve. Why was she crying? Arabella scrubbed her eyes again, glad of the darkness. After a minute of thinking, Arabella put the crying down to shock. She nodded at her own thoughts. Yes. She was still in shock over Jacob Summer's death and the untimely arrival of another Ravenclaw prefect had triggered the emotional attack. 

  The paintings around her were beginning to stir, a one-eyed woman in a golden potrait behind Arabella stretched and her eye fluttered open. Quickly but softly, Arabella gathered her wand in her hand and stood up. She brushed her shorts off and swiftly began walking down the corridor again. 

But in her haste, Arabella took a wrong turn and after a few corners, she ended at a dead end. "Merlin's beard," she cursed quietly, and turned around to go back the way she came. However, something caught her eye. 

It was a painting of a young girl, standing with an older man. The girl wore her dark black hair in high pigtails on her head with white ribbons tied in bows around the pigtail. Her lips were stained a ruby red and she smiled brightly outwards. A cloak, the colour of dark emeralds hung around her shoulders and brushed the floor. Black pumps adorned her small feet. The man who held her hand had hair as dark as the child's and a short, pointed beard. A locket fell across his chest, almost hidden by the folds of his cloak, identical to that of the girl's. They swayed slightly and a slight breeze buffeted their hair. Unlike most other paintings, neither the girl nor the man acknowledged Arabella. It was as if they could not see her. 

The painting intrigued Arabella and she stepped closer. It was old, much older than most other paintings in Hogwarts. The frame that surrounded it was wooden and was obviously once painted a brilliant silver. Now, only flecks of silver were left on the peeling frame and only just, on the bottom right, Arabella could make out an initial. 

S.S

Something about this painting nagged at Arabella's conscience and she let her fingers trail softly over the frame and canvas. 

Who was S.S? The obvious answer was the founder of her proud house, Salazar Slytherin, but no where, in any book, had painting been mentioned as a skill of his. And if he was the mysterious S.S, then who were the people in the painting? 

Shaking her head, Arabella vowed to return another night, but for now, she wanted to get to the hospital wing. 

She backed out of the hall, as though one glance away from the painting, would cause it to disappear. Then she spun around and fled the hall, her chest aching with joy at the prospect of talking with Edmund again. 

But if she had stayed one moment longer, Arabella might have seen the young girl blink softly and reach out - as though she was asking for help. 

*** *** *** *** *** ***

"Sunshine!"

Arabella grinned madly and bounded over to Edmund's cot as quietly as she could. "Edmund!"

Edmund Luca smiled and held out his arms. Arabella leapt straight into his hug and nestled into his chest, her legs splayed out over his bed. Edmund's bed wasn't surrounded by curtains tonight, and Madam Pomfrey had left a bottle of foul-smelling liquid by his bedside. Arabella scrunched her nose and winced. "Eww," she laughed. 

Edmund picked up the bottle and took a swig. "It's my medicine. I haven't had an attack in a couple of weeks, so Pomfrey is letting me self-medicate for now." Edmund beamed and put the bottle down. He wrapped his arms around Arabella and let the scent of her shampoo memorise him. "How've you been, Arabella?" 

The fifth year shrugged. "Fine, I guess. I still don't remember anything about Jacob or anything but other than that, I've been good." 

Edmund nodded, still smiling. "That's good." 

Then Arabella turned serious. "You haven't told anyone about what you read in my file right? About my-"

Holding up his hand, Edmund frowned. "You think I have anyone to tell? All my friends stopped visiting me a year ago." 

Seeing his hurt expression, Arabella blushed and fumbled with an excuse. "I'm sorry, I just worry about it getting out and-" 

Edmund laughed and kissed Arabella's forehead gently. "It's alright, I understand. Just... Trust me from now on, alright?" 

Sighing, Arabella leant against Edmund's chest again. "Alright." 

"Anyway!" Edmund announced suddenly.

Arabella giggled and shushed him desperately, looking around the wing fearfully as if Pomfrey would rush out of her office and bash them with a bedpan. 

"Anyway," Edmund said again, but in a whisper, "tell me what's going on at Hogwarts. I'm so out of the loop, I haven't left this bed in so long." 

"Quite a bit actually," began Arabella, thinking of the two deceased students and then proceded to spend the night next to Edmund, telling stories of mundane, exciting and terrible Hogwarts' stories alike deep into the morning. 

It wasn't until the sun began seeping through the curtains and the Weeping Willow shook it's branches did Arabella rise again.

But it wasn't the morning sun or nature that woke her. No, it was something else entirely. 

September Twenty Third, 1943

A puff of white smoke, a python wrapped around a box and an unblinking green set of eyes.

Arabella woke, gasping as she sat up violently. Sweat dripped down her brow. As she went to wipe it, Arabella found she was crying, again. 

Edmund shuffled in his sleep next to her and muttered something unintelligible. Slowly his eyes fluttered open and he gazed at Arabella, worried. "Are you alright? What's wrong?" 

Arabella lay back down but kept gazing at the arches in the ceiling, feeling the salty tears fall down the side of her face. "I don't know." 

Sorry it's been so long! Hey! I have a question for you all. Where are you all from?