𝐄𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚; ᴛᴏᴍ ᴍ. ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ

Ch. 2 | Rise of the Fallen

Rise of the Fallen

   With curls evidently defining my jaw, the highlights of tawny-brown envelop wherever the sun hits as I stare at a reflection of myself, circling my head around in order to get every angle possible. With the shines of youth still within me, bright sky-blue surrounds the perimeter of my pupils; eyes never once leaving the centre of my pocket mirror. Cobalt leaves the rest of my iris a deep honeycomb, entrancing even myself in such hollow vision barriers.

Contrary to my eyes, the epidermis of my skins is fragile and soft – between a fair and almond tone; neither one colour overshadowing the other. I suppose the two blend together; mimic to form... Me. The two mix in whole, just as my heritage of a half-blooded witch does.

I frown, unable of getting the locks upon my head just as I'd want them and leave them be as a heavy sigh escapes past my lips. Inside this compartment – this void of a room – there is nil of entertainment; no music, no book, nor did I think to bring a sketchpad to the past. Why would I?

Even so, quiet as it is within Hogwarts Express' fifth Ravenclaw compartment, the beating of the rain against the window to my left puts my mind at ease with each droplet that hits the glass. I turn my head and rest against it, once more exhaling, and allow for my eyes to close in everlasting tranquility.

Now, I think. I think of each and every scenario; all possibilities and routes I could take from here on. Yet, as I sit alone in thought, nothing comes of use, and I let my napper slap the pane in a deafening thud and defeat – feeling the hurt spreading from the side to my forehead. Surely, if it was as easy as it had been to get Hogwarts to accept a new student so late in their studies, it must be just as easy to navigate my way into a man's life without acting out of turn. The question – how?

Quite abruptly, I'm guided away from my notions by the slamming of my compartment's door, eyes whipping to the source of the sound. I fixate my vision to where I see a girl of chestnut-brown pigtails breathing heavily, eyes bulging as she turns around to spot another person in the place she, most possibly, thought she'd be alone in.

"Who are you?" in a silky, pitchy voice, she queers; quite annoying if you are to ask me.

Although, who to mind her voice when the girl herself is blatantly rude. No introductions, no anything. Snarky and irritated, I reply, "Shouldn't I be asking?"

There's a pause and a stare between us, just as a competition would go, although with less of the winner's aspect. We remain just as for quite some time – merely an eye for an eye, her; standing by the sliding door with her body pressed up against it, and I; quite rudely disturbed and vexed.

Wanting her gone already, I make up conversation once more, picking up where we'd left off, "Never mind, I'm Erin Reyes. Just transferred today; sixth year. Now, you. What are you doing, and if you wouldn't mind, could you pick up the pace?"

She opens her mouth to speak; probably yet another question to answer that of my own, though before the girl can answer two bangs come from outside the compartment, where a blonde-headed fourth-year-looking girl stands with a wicked smile coated upon her face.

"Myrtle! Myrtle – come on – I just wanna play! I swear I won't do anything."

Holy shit – Myrtle? Riddle's first victim Myrtle? That Myrtle? Have the fallen risen?

Pigtails shakes her head vigorously before placing her hand upon the locks, trapping us both inside as the blonde sneers, tongue sticking out. A long-ish nail makes its way to the bags of her right eye before she drags it down, creating an akanbe taunt. Her body, already turned to leave, she moves in slow paces as her feet drag along the ground.