Mischievous

7

Her first week at the school consisted of white nights at the library, quick naps (not that she need much sleep), practices and sometimes lessons. She was living, breathing by her new favorite quote knowledge is power.

She had now finished studying the totality of the courses from the first year to the fifth year. (She was indeed a fast learner).

But she still had to figure out how to fly with a broom, aka one of the coolest and iconic things witches were known of.

Today was Sunday, and she was determined to cross this one off her list.

Her 'borrowed' broom under her arm, she walked out of the castle, seeking for a somewhere quiet, with not too much trees, no lake and preferably with no students to be ridiculized in front of. She would have loved to follow a class to learn the art of flying, but unfortunately, the subject was reserved for the first year only. Thankfully, she got her hand on one book that explained it all.  In theory, it all seemed quite easy. 

Finally, she found her spot, a large green space surrounded by trees a little remote from the castle. She quickly reread her notes and placed the broom on the grass on her right.

"up" She commanded.

The broom obediently flew to her hand. She mounted it. She then kicked off from the ground hard, careful to keep her broom steady. She hovered for a moment then leaned forward slightly and touch back down. A large smile grew on her lips.

She kicked off the ground once again and flew high in the air, she then hovered, admiring the view.  From where she was, she could see the castle in its entirety, bordered by the wood on a side and the lake by the other, she also noticed what she now knew as the Quidditch field where some were training. Today the sun was bright and only a few clouds were dotting the blue sky. 

High on adrenaline she swiftly flew in direction of the forest before going up last moment. Still on high speed, she observed curiously her surrounding. No one seemed to have noticed her yet. She went to the lake, brushing the icy water with her right hand. 

That's when she noticed him.

A studious Mr. Riddle reading a small leather book, seated comfortably on a bench. He was too concentrated on his book to notice her. She hesitated to scream an obscenity at him but decided against it. That would maybe be a step too soon in their relationship, they weren't closed enough yet, they haven't even properly introduced each other after all...

Mindlessly staring at him, she screamed when she felt something bitting one of her right-hand fingers. She wasn't flying straight anymore as she noticed the Grindylow still viciously gripped to her not wanting to let go. She violently shacked her arm, trying to keep control of her broom with only her left hand. Muttering obscenities in Wenzhounese the creature suddenly open his little green eyes as suddenly realizing its doing and squealed apologetically before diving back into the lack.

By the time it let go, It was too late for Cytri to avoid the worst. 

She crashed into Riddle full speed.

In some ways, it was like one of those very cliché scenes in dramas where the main protagonist trip on the cute boy and ended up in a very subjective position, staring at each other before they got all shy. Except it was more on the gory side and the boy didn't seem to like it much.

Blood was pouring down Cytri's hand and Riddle's broken nose. Staring, she noted the total lack of shyness in his features and more of a shock/pissed off vibe coming from him.

"Hi, nice to meet you Tom, I'm Cytri" she said smiling down at him, still pretty much laying on him. Red looked so good on him, too bad for his nose tho.

A thick silence fell on the lake.

Tom looked down at his once white shirt which was now soaked in blood as Cytri's wounded hand was dripping on it. He looked back at her, sending her his most hateful look. But she didn't seem to be phased by it, as if clueless of what it meant.

"Care to-" He began before being cut by her.

"Let's be best friends!" She said excitedly completely ignoring him. Too stunned to reply, her smile grew wider. She promply got up, took her broom and turned back to the boy still laying on the floor visibly in pain. 

He relutently accepted her hand to help him stand, bringing his own to his strobing face. He felt her hand petting his hair. A large, borderline sadistic smile was plastering her face. 

"See you around TomTom"