Candescent

Slytherin had overtaken Gryffindor in house points. I guess I was kind of happy about that, but Hermione, Harry and Neville’s moroseness was bringing down my mood quite quickly.

“You shouldn’t have gotten caught,” was all I could say for the hundredth time to Hermione at breakfast the next Saturday.

“Don’t remind me,” she commented as an owl swooped in and dropped three detention slips on the table. Looking back over at the Slytherin table I noticed Malfoy picking an identical one up at the same time. “I still can’t believe Malfoy is that selfish!”

“He ratted on you?” I asked in shock, looking back at his face that had resumed its usual smug look even though he’d just received a detention notice. “What a –”

“Serves him right though,” Hermione interrupted. “He’s got detention too. And he lost points.”
I looked over at her and just stared.

“Oh, right,” she said distractedly. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re in Slytherin.”

“Sometimes I do too,” I answered.

But then a little annoying voice in my head starts to bug me and shows me that maybe I am.

xxxxx

“And where may I ask are you going?” Blaise called across the room to Malfoy.

“He’s got detention,” I answered evenly from behind the copy of Hogwarts: A History that I had borrowed from Hermione. “Because he can’t control his hate for the Golden Trio.”

“Shut up Tyler,” Malfoy said sharply from the entranceway. “They were the ones breaking rules. Besides, I got Slytherin ahead again didn’t I?”

“Whatever,” I replied, pushing the book back up in front of my face.

I heard his footsteps leave the room as Blaise piped up again, “Air high five Tyler.”

I put my hand up, still not taking my eyes off the page and felt a rush of air in the shape of a hand hit my palm. Curious, I put my book down on my knees and looked up at Blaise, then to my hand, then pack to Blaise.

“That’s pretty cool,” I commented with an appreciative nod.

“So is the getting-on-Malfoy’s-nerves thing you’ve got going on.”

“It’s not hard,” I answered, bookmarking the page and walking over to sit next to Blaise on the lounge. “His very existence annoys me, so I do my best to return the favour.”

“Well, since we’re on the topic of annoying Malfoy, you know what would really annoy him?”

“What?” I asked warily.

“Helping me with my transfiguration homework.”

I looked at his hopeful face and something inside of me broke. Besides it wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

“I'll dictate it to you,” I answered, leaning back into the lounge. “My handwriting is way too messy to pass for yours.”

“But your handwriting’s really neat,” he said in confusion.

“That’s sarcasm Zabini,” I replied drily. “A simple thank you would suffice.”

“Thanks Tyler,” he answered with a beaming smile.

xxxxx

That night it was freezing. I was the last person in the common room after midnight and I finished reading chapter seventeen of Hermione’s book. My scar was tingling and no amount of rubbing could make it go away.

This cannot sustain me forever Quirrell.

The familiar voice broke me away from my rest. I jolted upright and rubbed the sleep away from my eyes. That voice…I'd heard it in my dreams. But I'd heard it the other day as well; back when my scar was hurting…

Jumping up from the couch I crept into my dormitory and picked up my wand, a jumper and my thick cloak before making my way out of the common room and into the abandoned dungeons.

Nobody ever locks up around here, I thought to myself as I slipped out of the gigantic doors and into the harsh night air.

I gravitated towards the forbidden forest which looked even scarier at this time of night, or at least it would normally. I don’t know, I was feeling quite unusual…

I made my way towards a well marked path that was quite close to Hagrid’s hut, holding my wand before me as both defence and light source. Entering the Forbidden Forest, howling sounds and animal’s screeching carried above me. But even though it was freezing and every ounce of logic I possessed was telling me to run back to my dormitory and curl up under my quilt, I kept walking. My shoes padded silently across the tree roots and leaf litter but I could hear voices up ahead. Slowing down, I saw a hooded figure leaning over a dead unicorn in the distance. Fear shot through me.

I couldn’t move. I was so shocked I could barely think. I could recognise both of those voices.
Without meaning to, my foot unconsciously took a step forward. I was helpless against whatever force was pulling me forward and it seemed the hooded figure heard my footsteps.

It looked up and I locked eyes with a monster.

I screamed aloud and scrambled backwards clutching my burning scar. It was splitting my head. The pain wasn’t even centralised. There had to be blood. I had to be dying.

I couldn’t tell through closed eyes, but I could swear I heard a galloping horse nearby as well as a high pitched scream that sounded suspiciously like Malfoy. But as I felt blood pouring out of my nose, all I could do was run back the way I'd come with tears pouring down my face, holding my cheek in agony.

When I reached Hagrid’s hut, I sank into the foundation with a soft sigh, feeling the pain ebb away from my face. I wiped the blood off my face and turned into the cold stone as I tried to ease away the burning.

The voices were just constant chattering now. But they were as welcome as a bee hive. I tried to shake them off but I couldn’t. Even as I saw Hagrid, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Malfoy come walking hurriedly out of the forest I didn’t move. It was at least another ten minutes before I even dared walking back up to castle, hoping and praying that the doors were still unlocked.

It seemed that someone was definitely looking after me because as I slipped back into the castle and walked back to my dormitory no one greeted me. Mind you, I wouldn’t have cared I was so distracted.

I rushed through my dormitory and into the bathroom where I saw myself in the mirror. “Tergeo,” I muttered, seeing the blood across my face. I hit myself on the back of the head to no avail. There were still voices hissing in the back of my head and they wouldn’t go away.

So I sank into the tiled walls and sat there until morning came. Mulling over the realisation that the voice in my nightmares that I'd come to know as Voldemort was also one of the ones I kept hearing in my head.

He wasn’t dead.