Davina | hp. ✓

28 | The Darkest Spell of All

THE HUMAN MIND is truly the scariest thing of all. It is where the most absurd ideas are born, where tyranny begins, where self-consciousness can develop into self-hatred, where the truths we are too afraid to face bubble to the surface to haunt us always. Davina knew better than anyone what it meant to live in her own mind -- to find both solace and darkness in her thoughts. Sometimes it was a refuge, other times it was a fucking cursed place that she could never escape. Tonight, it was the latter. It had been a while since Davina had one of her vivid nightmares or lucid dreams, so she knew that the next one would surely pack a punch when it came. She didn't know just how right she was. 

She was lying fast asleep in bed, tangled in sheets and with Theo's arm flung over her in his own slumber. She began to stir as a dark vision -- a memory -- consumed her unconsciousness and she was left with nothing else to do but endure it. The dreadfully familiar cold-sensation claimed her body as if a bucket of ice water was dumped over her as she slept, and she knew what she was about to witness would be yet another haunting chapter to the growing book of death in her mind. 

She found herself standing in a dimly-lit room at Hogwarts. She vaguely recognized it as the office of the Dark Arts professors, although it wasn't anything like how she remembered it being. Two large, pale pink sofas surrounded a fireplace -- the flames ate away at the logs, casting unnerving shadows throughout the torch-lit room -- and an elongated, rounded table in the center of the room beneath a crystal chandelier. In the far back stood the large oak desks most professors had, and beyond that were doors that led to a balcony. The air hung thick with warmth and contentment, but there were undertones of unspoken tension that made the atmosphere seem almost menacing. 

Davina found herself looking in on a conversation between two people by the fireplace. The first was an older man who Davina knew to be Horace Slughorn, the man who took up the mantle of Potions professor when Snape finally took on the Dark Arts teaching position this year. He was renowned for his experience in Potions and his connections with the best and brightest magic folk in their society -- owing mostly to a low-key academic society he formed decades ago. Blaize Zabini was one of those selected to be a member this school year. In fact, the Slug Club society was well-known in Davina's circle; Lucius was once a member, as were the Lestranges and Sirius' younger brother, Regulus. 

By the looks of it, the young man standing in front of him was another one of his prodigies. She took a closer look at the boy and realized, as her heart leaped into her throat, that he was Tom Riddle. It was impossible not to recognize him, even while she knew him as the serpentine, inhuman sorcerers he was today. There were certain features to the boyish version of him that could not be erased such as his sharp features, calculating eyes, and subtle scowl. He was handsome in a severe, cold sort of way. 

"I was in the library the other day. In the restricted section...and I read something rather odd about this rare magic." Tom raised a chalet to his lips and took a leisure sip from it. Professor Slughorn gripped his own chalet a little too tightly and regarded to boy with a warm, curious smile, but Davina could see the hidden unease in his eyes. Even at a young age, Tom Riddle inspired unease. "It's called, as I understand it, a Horcrux."

Slughorn's face turned an unflattering shade of gray. "I beg your pardon?"

"Horcrux." The corners of Riddle's lips quirked upwards. The man's discomfort and shock was palpable, and he was getting off on it. "I came across the term while reading... and I didn't fully understand it."

"I'm not sure what you were reading, Tom," Slughorn stammered, lowering his chalet. "But this is very dark stuff! Very dark, indeed..."