i am lord voldemort • Tom Riddle

VIII

Ophelia hadn't exactly been lying, but she could tell Dumbledore knew she hadn't exactly been forthcoming with the whole truth, either. Worse- he
knew she knew that he knew, and that knowledge pressed down on her like an invisible weight, like gravity had been ramped up a thousand fold. Even so, he didn't press the subject as they walked the length back to Gryffindor Tower.

"About Warren..."

Dumbledore peered down sideways at her in interest. She was by no means short, but the deputy headmaster towered at least a head and a half taller, making her feel like a misbehaving child in his presence.

Ophelia cleared her throat and began again. "About Myrtle... What are you going to do?"

Dumbledore seemed to ponder this. "I imagine a word with her Head of House is in order. Have you an idea what grieves poor Miss Warren?"

Ophelia hesitated only a beat before answering, "I've heard rumors that she's bullied. Being muggleborn, she's had a- difficult time adjusting, and some people don't make it easier."

The professor nodded, as if this didn't surprise him.

"She probably doesn't go to the professors out of fear that it will only make it worse," Ophelia said, not entirely sure what she was tryin to imply.

"Maybe," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "what she really needs is a friend. Ah, we're here."

Ophelia looked up at the scowling Fat Lady, who no doubt resented being awoken at this hour. "Rachis."

The portrait swung wide, however, Dumbledore held her arm to prevent her clambering on through. "About your punishment..." Her heart fell. "You are prohibited from tomorrow's Hogsmeade trip."

Ophelia blinked, then had to fight the urge to burst out laughing. "You are too cruel, sir."

"I have my moments," he agreed, eyes twinkling, before urning around to brook conversation with the portrait of the suspicious sage.

They both knew there had been no way she was going to leave the castle anyway. Not now, nor ever.

III

"What do you mean you're not going to Hogsmeade with us?" Rabastan asked, annoyed. "You weaseled your way out the last two trips, too."

"I did not. I already had plans, but now I can't go because I got caught sneaking around after hours."

"Oh?" He perked up, lowering his goblet from his lips and wiggling eyebrows suggestively. "What were you up to, if I might ask? Was a boy involved?"

She sent him a flat look. "Yes."

Tom stiffened beside her.

"My dear, sweet Ophelia, out during the witching hour with a boy?" Rabastan clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "I'm so very disappointed."

"I'm not 'your' sweet anything," Ophelia pointed out with an exaggerated rolling of the eyes.

He stared, a minute frown pulling at the corners of his lips, before seeming to remember himself and replacing it with his signature lascivious grin. "Was he anyone I know? Do I need to teach him a little due decorum?"

"Rabastan," Tom sighed. "I find it hard to believe you've never been out of the dormitory after curfew."

"Not with a boy, no."

Tom didn't seem amused.

Rabastan raised his hands in defeat, indicating he was backing off. "If I'm the only one concerned with my dear friend's virtue, then so be it.