"Do you think Harry really put his name in there?" Ron asked for what had to be the tenth time already.
Honestly, it was getting on my nerves. Malfoy had planted that ridiculous idea in his head that Harry had actually done it,
and ever since then it had been gnawing at him like an overpopulated house-elf colony.
"Yeah, sure, absolutely," I rolled my eyes.
"Even though he's not exactly a genius, he'd definitely figure out a way to do it. How can you be such an idiot, Ron?"
"And let's not forget that the Goblet was protected by spells cast by Albus Dumbledore himself," Hermione added to the conversation.
Normally, when Ron and I argued, she stayed neutral and didn't get involved. Which annoyed me. It always felt like she was placing herself above our disagreements. And yes, we often acted like five-year-olds. Still, it surprised me that she chose to join our brewing argument this time.
Yet despite everything, it was obvious that Malfoy's words had gotten to her too.
Harry always attracted attention. Even when it wasn't intentional, you could tell he enjoyed it. But I didn't believe he'd be foolish enough to put himself in danger like that.
If that stupid Malfoy didn't hang around people like that idiot Riddle, son of the Dark Lord, or Ariana Lestrange, also known as the Slytherin Princess, I would have shown him my favorite finger a long time ago. But I wasn't keen on risking ending up with only eight fingers.
"Since when are you two conspiring against me?" Ron snapped.
He paused and looked between Hermione and me, suspicion written all over his face.
"You know something. Why won't you just tell me? I'm your friend. I'm Harry's best friend. I deserve to know."
" You're right, Ron, you deserve to know. Just like all of us," Seamus chimed in, annoyingly.
"Yeah, I agree. You deserve to know that you're both insufferable today,"I remarked flatly.
"Elyse Black!" Hermione scolded me. "You don't say things like that."
I just rolled my eyes.
Ron and Seamus leaned toward each other, whispering and reinforcing their shared "truth." Hermione went back to her book. I reached for my textbook, hoping to find at least some sense in studying.
It wasn't in my hand.
Oh, Merlin.
I nudged Hermione and shouted over the noise of the remaining Gryffindors,
"Hermione, I have to go back. I forgot my textbook in the hall!"
She looked at me in surprise. "Can't you get it tomorrow? They told us we should all head back to our dormitories."
"Don't worry, I'll be quick," I assured her, giving her a fast hug.
I liked her. I just didn't feel like explaining that the textbook hadn't been obtained entirely... legally.
In the library, Imperius was only ever mentioned in terms of how dangerous it was and why it shouldn't be written about at all.
I'd gotten the book from Professor Snape. He wasn't allowed to lend it to any student.
And if I told Hermione, she'd suspect me even more.
Everyone knew Snape hated Gryffindors.
Especially those who hovered around Harry.
And I still wasn't allowed to talk about my complicated past anyway.
I ran back to the Great Hall, my stomach tightening with every step.
Only a few sleepy students remained, and Filch was already herding them back to their dormitories without mercy.
I reached the Gryffindor table and let my fingers slide across the wood, as if the notebook might materialize on command.
I scanned the bench where I'd been sitting. On Harry's spot there were only crumbs. No black leather textbook.
Snape is going to kill me. I'm going to die at fourteen.
I lifted the red-and-gold tablecloth, but there was nothing on the floor either.
A heavy knot formed in my throat. Something wasn't right.
"Black, are you looking for your little friend Potter?"
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Perfect. Exactly what I needed.
I straightened slowly and turned to face the devilish trio.
Draco Malfoy, paradoxically the least frightening of the three, stood on the left. His blond hair was slicked neatly back, and he looked like he'd just won the jackpot. Though I suspected he'd be far more pleased if Harry were standing there instead of me.
In the middle stood Ariana Lestrange, hands on her hips, wearing a bored expression, as if she were in Divination class rather than the Great Hall. Her black, curly hair was wildly untamed, echoing her mother's madness. Her Slytherin uniform only emphasized her pale skin. She had her mother's face, but her eyes were unmistakably Riddle's.
Mattheo Riddle stood to her right. Smug smile, brown curls, and beneath his robes I could see the outline of his wand.
And then I saw it.
His right hand was holding my textbook.
That bastard took it.
"Looks like she's searching for her conscience," Riddle added.
The three of them laughed with that fake aristocratic amusement of theirs.
"Actually, I was looking for yours," I replied, staring straight at the Dark Lord's son.
"But that one probably doesn't exist anymore."
"You're playing with danger, Black," he hissed.
"Then maybe that danger could give me back my textbook," I shot back.
"Yours?" Ariana scoffed. "That book is banned everywhere. Only professors are allowed to have it."
"Well, as they say," Malfoy cut in, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Like father, like daughter. Looks like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree with the Blacks."
Malfoy, fuck off.
I was starting to lose my patience.
My gaze flicked to the teachers' table at the far end of the hall. I was afraid that at any moment, Professor Snape and McGonagall would emerge through the hidden doors behind it. I didn't want another lecture from either of them.
"Give it back, Riddle. I don't have all day," I said, sighing as I held out my hand, as if he might actually comply.
There was something in Riddle's eyes that promised nothing good.
"Hmm... and why should I return a stolen textbook, Black?"
Where did you get the idea it's stolen, you bastard?
Lestrange answered for him. "It belongs to a professor. And they're forbidden from lending it to students."
She looked straight into my eyes. Her brown ones bored into my grey.
"And this one belongs to Professor Snape. And he hates all Gryffindors."
"Obviously not all of them," I muttered.
"What did you say?" Malfoy snapped, his idiotic blond head jerking toward me.
"Give it back, Riddle," I repeated, completely ignoring Malfoy.
"How about a deal, Black?" he said, stepping closer. He tossed my textbook casually in his hand.
"I give you back your stolen book... and you," he pointed at me, "tell us the truth."
"The truth?" I raised an eyebrow. I had no idea what truth he meant.
Well. One did come to mind. But there was no way they could know.
Lestrange and Malfoy scoffed impatiently behind him.
"How Potter put his name into the Goblet," Riddle said indirectly.
I almost laughed. How was I supposed to know? Even if Harry had told someone, I would be the last person.
"Didn't your parents tell you?" I asked calmly. "If anyone knows, it's them."
I froze. My gaze darted between Lestrange, who frowned and let her hand drift dangerously close to her wand, and Riddle, whose eyes felt like they were drilling straight through my skull.
I knew I'd hit a nerve.
I knew this wouldn't end well.
I knew I shouldn't provoke them.
Honestly? I didn't care.
"And wait," I tilted my head, feigning concern.
"They couldn't have, actually."
"Flipendo!" Riddle shouted.
The air around me exploded with energy.
I fell backward, my head slamming against the cold stone floor, a sharp pain radiating down my spine. The world blurred, tears stung my eyes, and in my ears rang the hum of it all—the laughter of Lestrange and Malfoy mixing with my own quickened breath and the frantic pounding of my heart.
Maybe provoking him hadn't been the best idea.
I pushed myself onto my knees, pressing a hand against the cold wall, struggling to hold back the dizziness that nearly pulled me back down. Every muscle throbbed, my head pounded, and my stomach twisted. Yet I could feel the adrenaline mingling with anger—fury giving me the strength to rise, even though every movement hurt.
Around me, the world was still hazy, every sound seeming distant, but my eyes adjusted—and there they were. Riddle, Malfoy, Lestrange—all standing as if waiting for me to get back up, each glance a stark reminder that the danger was real, immediate, and unavoidable.
"What's going on here?"
The laughter stopped instantly.
"Miss Lestrange, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Riddle," came a cold voice.
"What exactly do you find so amusing?"
Professor Snape.
Well.
I'm fucked.