Little Hangleton

(1994)

December 22, 1994

The old Riddle mansion was quiet as it had been vacant for some time since the untimely death of the family. However, a fire was crackling in one of the old bedrooms indicating that the old house was not abandoned as previously thought. A large snake, going by the name of Nagini, was slithering in the dark corners of the room. She was hungry and found her pleasures by searching for rats. In another room were the sounds of a wheezy man, wearily stirring the contents of a dirty cauldron. He was mumbling to himself though his mind was guarded. His master would not allow complaints, no matter how disgusting the task was. And for Wormtail, the task was beyond repulsive.

In the parlor, a large chair cozied up to the fire. At first glance, it looked as if someone's dirty laundry was thrown on the seat from sheer laziness. But with closer inspection, one would notice two gleaming slits reflecting the firelight. It couldn't be called a natural-born creature based on the fact its eyes were blood red. In fact, one would be surprised it was once called human: for it was Wormtail's master, the once mighty and powerful Lord Voldemort.

Barely able to keep warm in this pathetic excuse for a body, Voldemort was cursing himself. He had been cursing himself for quite some time, but now more than ever. He knew Christmas would soon be upon him. But the holidays were not his worry. Christmas meant more cold, and, as he was now, it meant more torture. He considered asking Wormtail to throw him in the damned fire, but then all the work it took to make this feeble corpse would be in vain. Wormtail was close to being no help whatsoever in Voldemort's mind. The Dark Lord had been in no shape to create the concoction necessary for his current, makeshift body, and Wormtail had practically no experience in creation at all. Thus, Voldemort was stuck in a body that produced and absorbed no heat whatsoever. He much rather preferred possessing snakes. At least then he could move freely and feel the fire's warmth press upon the scaly skin.

Voldemort let out a high-pitched exhale. Whatever the case was now, he knew soon he would have his former power returned. He also knew he would kill Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived would soon become the Boy Who Died. Voldemort's soul ached for his moment of revenge. He already imagined the boy's scared and sweating face. A few words, a flash of green, and he would come to an end like he should have fourteen long years ago. Patience was the key for now. As tempted as he was to just have him killed by one of his loyal members, he knew that killing Harry himself would be very sweet revenge. The Dark Lord could barely wait in anticipation for the day to come when the portkey would drop him off at Voldemort's abode.

Wormtail suddenly came and blocked the heat while interrupting Voldemort's thoughts. "My-my Lord?" he questioned nervously. Voldemort had sensed that Wormtail was constantly assuming that his master would die. It was most likely because he detested the feeding process that allowed Voldemort to survive. Thus the fat, withered man always felt as if he should check before having to pick up the thing wrapped in old rags.

"Yes, Wormtail, I am still alive," the Dark Lord responded in his high-pitched voice. Wormtail sighed and slowly picked up the wriggling form. He brought him over to the cauldron in the next room. The smell of the unicorn blood mixed with Nagini's venom made Voldemort cringe. He did not enjoy this as much as Wormtail, but he had to survive somehow. Getting past the smell, Voldemort hated that he could not feed himself the concoction. He was as an infant, not even able to feed himself properly. Wormtail started to give the creature in his arms spoonfuls of the putrid liquid.

Voldemort started choking by the fifth gulp. Wormtail, not knowing exactly what to do, shook the baby-like body. It took a quick intake of air, and then slowly breathed out. "Wormtail!" it hissed, "As much as you enjoy this, try to avoid shoving it down my throat. I can swallow unassisted, if nothing else."

"I apologize my lord." His master grunted in response. At least five more spoonfuls and he would be free for five more hours. With his red eyes, Voldemort saw Wormtail's face appear as if enjoyed feeding him as much as he would enjoy cutting off his own hand. Well, he thought, Wormtail would definitely have the opportunity soon.

As he was being towed back to his chair by the fire, the Dark Lord wondered if Fate was laughing at him for being left with Wormtail. Of all his former servants, he was stuck with the dirty rat. By now the Death Eaters had disappointed him to no extent. It seemed like most of them fled when they heard word of his downfall. Despite the shortcomings, he knew, like always, the dogs would come back to their master soon enough.

Voldemort was extremely glad when they had found Barty Jr.; he was most confident that his plan on sabotaging the TriWizard Tournament could not have been executed so well without Barty's help.

Yes, Harry Potter would be killed, and this nightmare would be over. As much as Voldemort wanted to blame others, especially the Potters, for his fall from grace that night so long ago, he knew it was ultimately his own fault. He should have realized Lily Potter's sacrifice casted old and powerful magic. Still, Harry's time had come. Now that spell would protect him no longer.

He heard Wormtail suddenly drop something on the floor. The clattering upset Voldemort from his thoughts. The Dark Lord calmed once he knew it was only Nagini sneaking up on the rat. At times, he was tempted to tell her to eat Wormtail while he was in rat form, but, as much entertainment as that would bring, it would be counterproductive. Yes, Fate was laughing at him now by allowing all the worthy Death Eaters to wind up either in prison or dead.

Romule Lestrange, one of his closest servants and best commanders, was sent to prison along with both of his sons. Bellatrix, Romule's daughter-in-law and another excellent servant, was also imprisoned. Dorado and Indus Selwyn died in battle, the way they would have wanted. Apollo Rosier had met his ends by drinking his own poison when he found out his son Evan had been killed by Alastor while being escorted to Azkaban. Arthur Macnair had unfortunately been killed by giants. And Augustus Rookwood had been betrayed and found himself in prisoned.

Zilya Dolohov had died too long ago in the early years. His son Antonin was arrested for the murders of the Prewetts. Pavo Yaxley had been arrested under the same charges as Antonin. Helio Travers died fighting off the Aurors in the beginnings of the war, and his brother Ardin was imprisoned for the murders of the McKinnon family.

Peter Avery had died at the hands of Aurors right before Voldemort's downfall. His son, Robert, was caught and now in Azkaban. Alfred Mulciber was trapped in the same duel as Avery; he was killed as well. By no surprise, his son Quincy was also imprisoned.

Voldemort stared into the fire, recollecting the losses of his own Death Eaters. Yet, there was one more gone that he had not mentioned: the Smith girl.

He cursed the day that they had come to an end. Once she was gone, it seemed that the world he built suddenly crumbled before his eyes. He didn't realize how great her influence extended, but after she left it took a whole decade to be able to wage war against the wizards. Yet he should have known the consequences, seeing as it was in the prophecy. She had been his right-hand commander, and yet he didn't realize the truth until it was too late. It was another mistake he made that cost him dearly. The Death Eaters changed after the incident as well. They saw how serious the Dark Lord was about his quest for ultimate power. They also saw how far he would go to protect his pride. Yet whatever lesson they took, Voldemort made sure they learned one thing: never to mention the name or existence of Eva Smith again.

Despite that wrinkle, he had still gone ahead with his war. And truly, it had become a war. Even with the Death Eaters at his side, the battles were trying. Though he had lost the deal with the vampires, he still had the werewolvesand the Inferi. They seemed to be enough to handle. But the Dark Lord had to wonder, would this present had been his future if Eva was still here with him?

In the early days, he had never once imagined the future to be this grave. Yes, he had prepared himself for the day his body might be destroyed. He knew, making those Horcruxes, that he might have to go through excruciating times. He trained and prepped himself to survive extreme conditions. He had been surviving on his own his entire life, at least before Eva came. That stupid girl had changed everything. When she left, he was momentarily at a loss. He had grown used to her constantly being at his side. Voldemort had cursed himself for being so weak after she was gone.

Yet now at this crucial turning point, he had to wonder: what would his life be like now if Eva stayed? Might she have stopped him from ever going to the Potters' house? Could she have stopped him? Furthermore, if his reign became great at that time, would he have even bothered with that cursed family? Surely, if Eva had not gone, his height of power would have come much earlier. He doubted as well that the war would have lasted so long.

Thinking of what could have been simply made the Dark Lord bitterer. He huffed at the fireplace, slowly losing its flames. When the flames were decidedly embers, he squealed for Wormtail to light it up further. The Death Eater heaved his way to the parlor and flicked his wand at the flames. At least it was a slight increase in comfort, Voldemort thought. It was pathetic not even being able to use enough magic to light a fire.

The warming fire did nothing to calm the flames within. What little feelings for the Smith girl remained in the past, some sort of regret still lingered. As ordered, no one ever mentioned her. Not even his enemies. Of course, that could have been due to the fact they had little to no knowledge of her. He might have felt the sting of regret in losing her, but he would not go so far as to say he missed her. However, he could imagine the improvement his spirits would gain if he did have her company. Eva would definitely have been a gross improvement from Wormtail. Even if she had not left and Voldemort still lost his powers to the Potter boy, she would still have found him Albania. She would have been able to create the proper elixir to restore a body to the Dark Lord. She would not have hid as many others had. She would have devoted her every being to him, just as she had her entire life.

But Voldemort knew, looking back on what could have been was a poison that too many swallowed themselves. He needed to focus his waning energies on the bright future; one that would involve one less Harry Potter.

Eva Smith was not here and would never be here. But still, Voldemort was able to keep a promise of hers alive. He would remember her, solely because he could never forget her.

Hogwarts
(1942-1947)

December 25, 1942

I stared outside the tiny window, watching the snow fall into the dark abyss outside. Though it wasn't cold, I curled up on my four poster bed inside my bedroom. The other girls had gone home for Christmas vacation, and I was stuck alone in the Slytherin dorm rooms. I was always stuck alone.

I curled my toes around the green silky sheet and flipped another page of my memory album. Some could call it a diary, but I consider it more than just notes of my thoughts. I put all the pictures I ever had in it and my notes of most memorable memories. It holds my life.

On the cover, my mother had scribed out my name in red ink: Eva Amora Smith. This sole book has been my companion for six long years. Memories are the only thing that keeps you here on this earth. When you die, your body decomposes; it's only natural. But your impact on things around you won't die. The world knows you were here.

I had recorded much of my early life in here before I was able to go to school for wizards. Mother had taught me how to do an expanding spell that way I would never run out of pages. I flipped through to the pages of when I first came to Hogwarts two years ago. There was a picture of me before I was sorted, taken by one of the ladies at my previous boarding school. I beamed into the camera, happy that I was leaving. The headmistress was happy as well, since the Muggles had started their food rationing. Looking at the old photo, I smiled at my old self who, despite the smile, looked scared and nervous. It was a Muggle photo, unchanging without movement. I too felt unchanged from that moment.

I brushed my thin blond hair through my fingers and inspected the split ends. Maybe my hair grew longer, and I grew a little taller, but I felt like the same scared first year. Looking at my hair, I thought of my mother, Rebecca Smith. We shared the same golden-colored hair. She, unfortunately, married a Muggle whose name was George Smith. Though no one probably cares, I always told myself I use my mother's last name. I never knew any of his family and still do not to this day. My father died before I was born so he doesn't deserve to be remembered.

Rebecca was the niece of the well-known Hepzibah Smith, who proudly traces her ancestry all the way back to Helga Hufflepuff. Although I didn't know it until I came to Hogwarts, Hufflepuffs were identified by their tolerance of other wizards and witches, no matter their blood status. How very ironic it was, then, for my mother and me to be outcasts. The family just couldn't handle the idea of Muggle "interbreeding." I was an abomination, of course. They kept my mother's mistake hidden under the rug, so none of the other pureblood families knew about my half blood status. Luckily for my mother, she was always Aunt H's favorite niece. They wrote letters every so often after she was disinherited. In respect for my mother, Aunt H sent me to an all-girl's Muggle boarding school after she died. Looking back, she probably had a good laugh sending me to live with the Muggles. I was nine then.

My fingers fiddled with the edge of a tattered page where there was a photo of my mum holding me in her lap. I kept fidgeting and jumping out of her reach. She would silently scold me, pick me up and sit her in her lap once more. I sulked and the whole act repeated again. I was probably four or five at that time. I remembered my mum was pretty with a lot of motherly curves and deep emerald eyes. On the opposite page, there were two Muggle pictures: one of my parents together and a solo picture of my father. The top one was Mother and him in the park - she in a drop-waist day dress and he in a three piece suit. Their smiles looked fake.

In the close up of him, he was wearing a brown tweed jacket. He was very plain looking. My mum told me he had blue eyes and brown hair. His face was thin, as well as his body. I craved to have my mother's curves, but I was a flat and stiff as a board like he was. My father also gave me his cold blue eyes. I don't know what she saw in him. He looked rigid; opposite of Mother, who was warm and soft.

So when I saw her cold, dead body, I went into shock. There was not much I remember of that time. I don't remember crying, but I do remember not talking to anyone for quite a long time. After being taken away by the Ministry, I wondered what was going to happen to me. My aunt, in her graciousness, had sent me to that Muggle boarding school called Withers School for Young Women, probably to rot. Though the teachers had felt sorry for me, none of the girls there liked me very much because I caused a lot of "accidents" to happen. No one would get hurt, so I didn't even know what the fuss was about.

The one accident that caused me the most trouble was when I made the furniture to stick to the ceiling. The girls who shared my room were terrified. Since I was the odd quiet child, they blamed it on me. To their utmost happiness, I left three years later. My eyes settled on another Muggle picture: my eleventh birthday. It was taken right after I had read through my Hogwarts letter. I was smiling up at the nurse taking the picture, overjoyed with the prospects of joining a place where I might belong.

I always knew about my magic though. Mum would tell me all about the wizarding world, so I wouldn't be ignorant. "Eva, just because we aren't going to be rich, doesn't mean we can't be magical," she would say. Magic picks and chooses who will excel and who will fail. Your status doesn't matter. That was how I always translated her words.

It was my sorting into Slytherin that became the last straw for my "humble" family. Hepzibah refused to have anything to do with me. I heard she gossiped about me, saying, "I always knew she was a bad egg."

She was my last lifeline with the Smiths; after she heard about the sorting I was permanently disowned. Professor Dumbledore tried to change her mind on my behalf, but she wouldn't have any of it. My mother, bless her soul, had a safe in Gringotts that would pay for the rest of my schooling, so it seemed that losing Aunt H as a benefactor was no big loss.

Once at Hogwarts, I thought that I would fit in right away.

I was wrong sadly.

There were still girls who came from good families and wanted to make sure you knew all about it. Although wizards and Muggles are very different, you can't deny the similarities.

The main group of these aristocrats was the Black family who currently had four attending Hogwarts. It was said that every single Black had been in the Slytherin house. There were two sets of cousins, with Orion in my own year. His older sister, Lucretia, graduated long before he and I attended Hogwarts. Left was his elder cousin, Walburga, to act as the head Black of Hogwarts. She was in her seventh year and not a woman to be crossed. Walburga was somewhat of a queen bee around school. She knew everyone and everyone's secrets as well. She was, of course, beautiful with luxurious chestnut hair and dark eyes. I didn't know her much beyond that since she wouldn't waste her time on third years.

Her two younger brothers, Alphard and Cyngus, were also attending Hogwarts. Alphard was a fifth year prefect, but relatively one of the nicest Blacks. Cyngus was a year above me and usually kept to himself, though he was a star player on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Both brothers were born with good features which set them apart from most of the other Slytherins. Cyngus had a darker features while Alphard had lighter eyes and hair.

Their youngest cousin, Orion, had inherited the boyish charms. However, his largest vice was that he had no knack for knowledge. The poor boy was constantly lost in class; however he was cute enough to attract any Hogwarts girl into helping him with his homework. But his lack of brains aside, he was usually very polite to me, but, like everyone else, tended to consort with a different crowd.

All of the students, even in my own year, consorted with everyone but me. Even the younger ones gave no second thought to Eva Smith walking down the hallways. If anything, I was usually being made fun of by the other three girls in my year: Meredith Flint, Druella Rosier, and Norma Selwyn.

Meredith was a busy-body of a girl if I had ever seen one. I had known cliques before in my boarding school experiences, but she never once gave me a chance. However, she was so rude and dreary, I probably wouldn't even want to be her friend. Although Flint was not an extremely prestigious name, she was certainly proud of herself. I wasn't quite sure of what, since her grades as well as her looks were average. She had thin brown hair and a hooked nose, though she played it off very well. I did have to commend her on her fashion tastes; whenever I would go to Hogsmead, I always saw her wearing the best robes.

Her best friend was Druella, another girl from a well-off family. Druella had an older brother in seventh year, Apollo, and a sister in sixth year, Carina. The whole family had these beautiful blue-green eyes that could captivate you. Druella seemed as if she was the quiet one of the clique. However, she would occasionally ask how my day was if we were alone, or nod in passing if no one was looking. If you ever heard her talk, it was talking mostly in monotone. She had dark blond wispy hair. Her face reminded me of a bird, but she wasn't unattractive.

The last girl was Norma. Selwyn was another ancient wizarding name in competition with the Blacks. She was not as mean to me as Meredith could be, only in that she wouldn't laugh too hard when she asked where my parents were. Her famous line was usually, "Why aren't you in 'humble Hufflepuff'?" I didn't think Norma was very pretty, but her dark brown curls could accent her round face enough to make her striking. Her eyes were deep and dark. She wasn't the brightest one out of the trio, but she was the loudest.

Although I had grown used to their comments and the way I was ignored, I was not downtrodden by their actions. I had too much pride in my own self I suppose. Thankfully, if they ever teased me, it was only because I was thrown into Slytherin and disinherited. At times I felt like the Hat was wrong, and I should have been in Hufflepuff. On occasion Meredith would ask if I tricked the Sorting Hat. I ignored her comment; I felt that it was better than them knowing I was born from a Muggle father.

The only thing that would keep my mind off of my loneliness was studying. At boarding school, I wasn't the top student, but I wasn't unintelligent. I just didn't see the point. I entered Hogwarts with the same attitude, but I later thought that if I earned good grades, maybe people would notice me. I hated being ignored and forgotten. However, I was not much of a loud and outspoken person, so it was my curse to remain in the corner alone.

I usually kept myself busy in the library reading books, while the other girls were socializing in their common room. When I had finished my homework and checked it twice, I would pleasure read. They were usually wizard novels or history books. One of my favorite series, an adventurous romance, was Veroni Stoll's The Witch and Her Charm.

If I was bored with novels, I would occasionally browse through academic books. I learned a lot from them; more than any third year knew, that is. I read a lot about potions and how to create your own. Sometimes in my room, while the others were out, I would make potions to change the colors of my clothes so that I would be as fashionable as Meredith. I also made one potion that made any item, when coated with the liquid, unbreakable. It made writing much easier since I was known for a hard press.

I was even able to use a controlling spell I had taught myself from advanced spells book. It wasn't exactly like the Imperius Curse, but it could do the same thing. It would wear off in about twenty-four hours, and the receiver has to be very weak minded. I only used it once on a Gryffindor. She didn't remember anything anyways, so I didn't care too much.

But going to the library to read books proved to be most effective in my overall scheme of things. For at the library, I was able to see Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was there almost as much as I, searching the library like a starving man in a kitchen.

I was never formally introduced to Tom, but I knew him fairly well. He was a fifth year and the smartest student in the entire school. He was the youngest ever recipient of the Magical Merit award, and probably the most talented man to ever walk the earth. Everyone was jealous of him, even the older students. I would sometimes become irritated when the professors would fawn over him. I tried to impress them as well, to do something that would leave my imprint on this school, but nothing compared to the remarkable Tom Riddle.

But Tom really did deserve all the glory. He was too perfect. Tom was handsome, smart, and incredibly witty. We exchanged maybe ten words at the most, but I was enamored by him. The way he talks, with his beautiful deep voice, made me go wild. I would have given everything I owned just to spend one full day with him.

Sometimes I would follow him to classes, just so I would be able to see him more. He fit in so well with the other Slytherin students: they all loved him. In my free time, I would go around the school to see if I could find him, and maybe we would start talking. To talk with Tom Riddle! That would be amazing. Of course, I don't believe he knew that I followed him. If he ever found out, he would probably think I'm some mental patient.

I snapped out of my day dream, which had caused me to look out hazily to the faint, white snow float into the black night. My album was opened to a picture I had taken of Tom around the first week of this school year with my Muggle camera. I don't think he noticed, since he was apparently looking away from me. His face was gorgeous. Although he was slightly thin and pale, he worked well with it. His pitch-black hair was thick, and I dreamed of the day that I might run my hands through it. He was tall as well, probably a foot taller than me. I couldn't stop looking at his face, but then I heard my stomach rumble. I knew I needed to go for Christmas feast.

I wanted Tom to be downstairs so I could enjoy his face in real life. He and I were alike in many ways. We both had nowhere to go for the holidays and no family. I stayed and Tom stayed.

He always stayed.

As I exited the empty Slytherin common room, I mulled over the strange happenings at Hogwarts. No one knew exactly what was it was, but something was attacking the students. Four people have been petrified and they all had one thing in common - they were Muggle-borns. One of them was a Ravenclaw girl that always tried to one-up me in potions. I wasn't a sad at all to hear the news.

The school staff told all students that we were not allowed to walk alone in the corridors, but I wasn't worried. None of us Slytherins were afraid because we all knew the creature was attacking Muggle-born mudbloods. As much as I hated the people in my pureblood family, I was smart enough to realize that it's better to be a pureblood than to be part Muggle.

Once I entered the Great Hall, I frowned inwardly. Tom Riddle was nowhere in sight. The rest of the students and staff who stayed sat at the Gryffindor table. Only I and seven other students were left over for the holidays. I guessed they no other home to go to either. It made me feel a little better knowing that I wasn't the only one alone this Christmas.

I joined them but sat as far away as deemed polite. I had grown so used to being alone, I almost preferred it. A few of the fifth year girls were gossiping about Rubeus Hagrid. He was a half giant who was a Gryffindor in my year. He was always a bit odd; loving magical creatures far beyond normal, but he wouldn't hurt a fly. I saw him sitting on the opposite end I was, next to Professor Dumbledore. I liked Dumbledore, at least more than the other Slytherins. He was the only teacher who would take notice in my transfiguration and even congratulate me on my outstanding skills in potions, which he didn't even teach.

I waited the entire dinner, but Tom never came to the Great Hall. After I became full with too much Christmas ham, I played with the rest of my bread pudding, cutting it into little pieces with my fork. I balanced my head on my free hand and half stared at the other students. Other people were still eating. I waited probably ten more minutes to see if Tom would ever make an appearance, but it had become in vain. I realized there was no point in me sitting here listening to the other students talk. I stop playing with my food and set my fork down. My plate disappeared, and I stood up. As I walked towards the door, I heard an older voice come from the table.

"Miss Smith? I do suppose you are leaving for the dormitories?"

I turned around and smiled courteously to Professor Dumbledore.

"Yes sir. I'm feeling a bit tired at the moment."

"That is understandable. But I'm afraid that I can't let you wander the castle alone."

I wanted to remind him that I walked alone to get to the Hall. Also, I wasn't "wandering" the castle: I was going back to my room. But I didn't say anything. That was the way it usually went in my brain. I would say what I wanted to in my head but kept my mouth at peace as not to make a scene and stay in the good company of others.

"Don't worry professor. I'll take her back." The speaker had a deep voice that was too familiar, and he put a light hand on my shoulder.

Dumbledore didn't relax at the young man's answer. His eyes went stony and simply replied, "Alright Tom."

I had no idea how Tom made his way into the Hall without my notice or why he wanted to leave with me as soon as he arrived, but I disregarded the inconsistency. As Tom Riddle and I exited the Great Hall, I could barely contain my excitement. My breath got caught in my throat every so often, but other than that, I tried to act very normally. I felt snakes wriggling around in my stomach, and at times I wasn't sure if I was happy or nauseous. We had been walking for five or more minutes, and I knew that we were almost at the common room. This was the first time that I was ever alone with Tom, and I was cursing myself for not taking advantage. What would he think? A quiet, ignored third year girl trying to talk to the brightest fifth year in the history of the school? I didn't want to give a bad first impression, but I knew that my silence already had. Should I start talking now, in hopes of a good conversation, or should I just keep quiet? If I talk, I might say something dumb, but if I don't talk, he'll never remember me.

I froze, panicking in my mind. Talk or not to talk?

Tom kept on walking. A couple paces down he noticed that I was no longer next to him. He stopped and turned around to look at me. With one eyebrow raised he asked, "Are you coming?"

All I could do was fidget. My mind was going blank. Half of me screamed, "Say something!" while the other half yelled, "Keep quiet!" None of me said to keep walking.

"Do want to go to the common room or not, Smith?"

My heart skipped a beat. He knew who I was. He called me by name. I could feel my face turn into a little smile, but then it stopped.

Not because I realized how foolish I probably looked, but because of something a bit more terrifying. My breath felt permanently caught in my throat as something had caught my eye; something that was lurking in the shadows behind Tom. My eyes widened as I realized there truly was a monster haunting the halls of Hogwarts, and it was very large and slithering behind Tom Riddle.

"The-the creature. It's behind you…"

Tom didn't move or act afraid. He simply turned his head slowly, like he was going to turn around, but kept his eyes glued on me. Then I heard him hissing. It felt stupid and strange at the same time. Yet I trusted Tom would protect us. Despite not understanding his strange hissings, I felt a little better as I saw the creature sulk away opposite of us.

Tom motioned to me to come with his fingers. I gained the strength in my legs again and walked next to him for a couple paces until I couldn't contain myself any longer. "I don't know if you saved me, but I'm grateful." I looked up at his handsome face, which was staring straight ahead. "I knew you would protect me. I didn't believe it was my time to die."

He glanced down and raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome." He looked away but continued talking, "It wouldn't have attacked you anyways. Its job is to eliminate the mudbloods."

"Oh…Why is it doing that?"

"Why else? It's getting rid of unwanted magical taint. Hogwarts has no need to teach those who have the improper capacity for magic. Anyways, you shouldn't fear it. You are Eva Smith, are you not?" Although it was a question, he gave me no time to answer it, "The Smiths are pureblood, so the beast won't harm you."

"So it's true…Muggle-borns can't do magic…like we can?"

"Some say they can, but at the least it is a dilution of real sorcery."

"Oh. What about half-bloods?"

And then I noticed Tom freeze. Of course, it was barely visible; except to me. I observe everything since I have nothing better to do. After the words came out, I recalled some rumors that he was also a half-blood. Riddle was no pureblood name. Because he was so bright, handsome, and wonderful, no one dared to categorize him as less of a wizard. I looked around and saw that we reached the common room entrance. Tom said the password, Salazar, and we went inside.

I looked back up at his ridiculously handsome face, and I felt a little faint again. I could feel my heart beating in my ribs and in my ears. I forgot all about my unanswered question. All I know is that Tom and I were in the Slytherin common room… alone.

I suddenly had a day dream about Tom bending down his head closer to my face, grabbing my hand and proclaiming his love for me. I swoon, and he catches me. Our faces inch close together as he brings my head up to his. His lips look so inviting-

"You're a third year."

I blink, banishing the vision away. I shut my mouth, realizing that I had it parted slightly, thinking of 'daydream-Tom.' The real Tom was just staring at me, sizing me up. I felt like he never really noticed me until now. I nodded, answering his question.

"Don't you have family to go home to?"

I fidgeted, "Well…Aunt H is busy. It would be easier on her if I stayed here."

He frowned slightly and his lips curled. "While there's a monster on the loose?" he asked me in his smooth deep voice.

"You said it only attacks mudbloods, so I'm safe."

Tom smiled a little, looking me in the eyes. His piercing grey eyes made my heart skip a beat, especially when they would stare straight into my boring blue ones. I couldn't help but think what I would do for him, go to the edge of the world and back only to see his beautiful face every day. His small smile gave me guts. Instead of thinking of what I wanted to say, I took a leap and said it out loud. "What do you want from me, Tom Riddle?" I asked it in a polite tone, like my only pleasure would be to fulfill his wish.

He didn't answer, and he didn't look like he was going to. Tom simply looked at my face. I couldn't get enough of his. Finally, he said something. "It's late. You should be in bed."

I sighed and nodded, never letting my eyes leave his mesmerizing stare. In a flash, Tom quickly turned around and went to the opposite end of the room where the boys' dormitories were.

I slowly proceeded down the stairs with a huge grin on my face like I drunk too much butterbeer. I was tempted to call out, "Happy Christmas," but I decided I talked enough that evening. I was still overcome by the fact that I had a conversation with Tom Riddle.

I walked into my deserted room and leaped onto my bed, full of energy despite the lateness of the evening. I frantically searched through my album until I reached an empty page. I stretched to the nightstand and pulled out a drawer. I rummaged through some letters and old homework until I found unused parchment and a quill. This had definitely been one of my best Christmases. With quill in hand, I wrote down what happened and a stick drawing of me and Tom in the common room so I could relive the whole scene whenever I wanted.

I stuck the page in the album with a quick melding spell, but it was missing something. I took a deep breath and I realized what it was. I grabbed my quill again and wrote down in big bold letters what just happened to me in a nutshell:

I, EVA SMITH, AM IN LOVE WITH TOM RIDDLE

A/N- Thank you for checking out my story! I hope you continue to read as this chapter doesn't really give you any expectation for what the future has for Tom and Eva. I began this ff over ten years ago, but it is very special to me. I have always been overwhelmed with the amount of reviews and hits that this has gotten over that time. I wouldn't continue to update if it wasn't for the awesome followers of this story.

Happy Readings, mrsk