For the Greater Good || Tom Riddle ||

Chapter Twelve: Apologies

Two days passed.

Gwen remained elusive to the world. The bodies of her brother and father had disappeared from the grounds of Hogwarts, that she was sure of. She was expecting an owl any day now from Grindelwald. She was backed into a corner. Fear and anxiety were the dominant emotions that flooded her system like a virus, hacking into her cells and amplifying their effectiveness.

Outside, it looked as though it would rain ash and snow. The charcoal clouds resembled the mixing of paint on an artist's palette with chunks of grey, white, and black sweeping through the sky. The morning had captured the winter chill in colors on the snowy linen land—it was fresh from the early morning.

"Jam?"

Plates and saucers clanked together, silverware scratched against china, napkins shaped like uncoordinated birds magically fluttered to outstretched, greasy hands—it was a mundane morning in the Great Hall. Gwen was situated at the table, slouching over an empty cup of mint tea. There were several limp spearmint leaves at the bottom of the mug, swirled in a slosh of liquid. Her mind wasn't feeling particularly sharp that morning, but she found herself staring at them, trying to decipher they're meaning.

"Alligator."

The word barely escaped her lips. She peered down at the shape with a dull sort of curiosity, like what happens when someone has been stumped by a riddle and their interest in the answer wanes. However, there was a pinprick of annoyance that was bubbling in Gwen's brain—she liked to have answers, she liked to know things that evaded her. It was on the tip of her tongue, the edge of her mind.

"Alligator," she whispered again a little bit louder, almost tasting the word in her mouth as she mused it over.

Memories of a white room and swirling incense blooming out of a skull-shaped hookah smacked her in the face, and she felt frozen in a different time. She was a child, sitting on the floor with her legs obediently crossed and her head of golden curls bowed in intense focus. A breeze circulated the room and brushed against her skin, causing gooseflesh to rise like sprouty patches of wildflowers.

Her grandfather stood in the opposite corner, staring out of an open window at the rocky hills of the Norwegian countryside—but his attention was acutely aimed on her. Every inhale, every exhale he measured. Gwen could feel a heavy weight on her shoulders, one she wished would be snatched up by the wind and blown out to the sea to possibly nourish the flowers that grew high up on the cliffs.

"Look at the leaves carefully, Gwendolyn. Look."

"Ugh, Gwen? Are you okay?"

Gwen was pulled out of her tasseography session. Simon was staring at her expectantly, his boney hand clutching a jar of jam and offering it to her. She looked at it confusedly, not sure why it was in front of her.

"Do you want some elderberry jam for your toast? You were staring at it for quite a while."

"Umm, no thank you," Gwen said quietly, still not fully focused on the here and now.

She blinked slowly and the world seeped back into the present, the noise of breakfast and Hogwarts and her friends blending back in full bloom. The muted surroundings became sharp and vibrant. Benedict and Yasmin sat close to one another, as always, sharing what looked to be a bran muffin. Jane was across from Simon, a distance away, hinting that she still wasn't ready to talk to Gwen, but didn't want to find new friends either.

"Your loss," Simon hummed as he slathered a generous helping of the sweet stuff onto his English muffin.

He reached back over Gwen to put the jar back in its rightful place, but, being his clumsy self, managed to knock over Gwen's tea cup. He hurriedly grabbed it before its contents completely spilled onto the table.