𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲, 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐦. 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

Chapter Three

14 October, 1942

There is a thin line between good and evil, however good and evil are just labels, justifying what is praised, and what is scowled. Every action has a consequence, every blink has a new perspective, every step has a new outcome, for ever tear has a different meaning.

If the person you love was to die a slow and painful death, would you watch them suffer, or grant them mercy and release them to peace?

It was rainy and cold that day, harsh and bitter as the rain painfully hit the skin of any student, teacher or owl that greeted it.

But rain, like many other thing, person or creature, was in a way, misunderstood. People hated the rain, for they couldn't enjoy the sun, or the warmth. They couldn't smell the fresh air, they could not forgive mother nature for ruining their day.

While the plants thanked mother nature for the rain, for they were to be fed, and able grow. The creatures would be able to drink from the puddles, and the earth would be able to soak in the liquid, and stay fresh.

Just another thing, that is praised by some, and scowled by others, like Evangeliya.

Evangeliya understood this difference, and never wasted her time between what was good or what was evil, only the way it was looked at, and the way that it may do good instead of bad, or bad instead of good, breaking down the pros and cons of each little thing, before making her decision.

So few people understood Evangeliya, though no one ever tried, because if her thoughts were too strange, too sinister, too confusing, they stayed away. Because nobody's mind worked as hers. Notbody's brain held so much understanding, while at the same time, their heart held so much poison.

This was unusual to others, because to them, they were normal, but to her, they were ordinary. And maybe ordinary isn't bad, isn't pathetic, isn't repulsive, but being different doesn't make you strange, or scary, or imperfect. To Evangeliya, it made you interesting.

Over time, Evangeliya decided that Tom Riddle was different, whether in a "good" way, or a "bad" way, he was unlike others, for just like her, she could tell nobody understood him, not even herself.

Evangeliya could look at someone and make any assumption out of them, and most of the time, she were correct. Like how Walburga took pride in being perfect, and feared. And Rosetta took pride in being beautiful, and irresistible. Medusa took pride in being smart, and above everyone else.

But what did Tom Riddle take pride in, she was yet to know. Was it his looks? How could it be, he barley payed any mind when any girl would swoon over him. Was it his blood status? Perhaps he were pure-blood, and from a wonderful wizarding family, however Walburga explained that "Riddle" was not a known name for any witch or wizard, and most defiantly not apart of the sacred twenty-eight.

So it bothered Evangeliya, that she could not read his features, not grasp his mind, not understand what made him pained, or joyed.

"Hello,"

Evangeliya sat at the library, a large transfiguration book in her hands. Startled by the voice, she swiftly turned her head to see, of all people, Tom Riddle.

"Uhm... hello," She hesitantly greeted him.

"I'm sorry I haven't properly introduced myself, I'm Tom Riddle, Slytherin Prefect." He smiled. It was a smile that could break a million girls hearts, or fool a million men.