» ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴏx || ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʜᴀʀɢʀᴇᴇᴠᴇꜱ

Part 39

• I know that all these notes are irritating - but I'm going to go through with a small change in uniform where people have the option of wearing either the blazer, cloak or both, I actually looked at some reference photos carefully and found that the Riddle that was in the chamber of secrets actually wore his cloak over his blazer - I apologise, you probably hate me now, but I'm no professional writer, I'm still a clueless thirteen year old •

"Happy birthday Five!"
"God you're an old person now, ain't ya?"

The little assassin's friends practically threw themselves over him the moment he walked through the brick dorm doors, landing painfully on the ground with an oof as Five gracefully stepped out of the way - a little heap of coloured fabric and boys laying to his left.

"How amusing." Five said, Cicero and Marcus groaning as they untangled themselves.
"Good to know that you've regained your sarcasm." The brunet chuckled, walking over to his bed with his hands placed in his pockets.
"I wasn't being sarcastic, anyways - thanks."

"No problems - we both snuck out, and thought that you might like this." Cicero practically dived into his brown leather trunk like it was a pool, pulling out a brown paper bag with something weighty inside.

Five gave a thankful grin, drawing out an ebony horizon wood watch - the face of it obsidian black instead of your average white, matte and non flashy, the tar black arms ticking away at a steady rhythmic pace, rimming made of what seemed to be stainless steel.
It's plain dark grey flex wood strap held a thin buckle, the same material as the rim, just as dark as the night sky.

"We also enchanted it so that wherever, or when ever you are - it'll always tell the right time." Cicero added, drowning in anxiety at the brunet's lack of noise.

"Do, you not like it?"

"No." He replied dryly.
The boys were taken aback, feeling as though they just had their hearts pierced by a thin, long needle.
"Oh." The platinum haired boy said in a small voice.

Five smiled.
"I love it, thanks guys - I really appreciate this. I honestly forgot that it was my birthday today, with everything else that was happening - guess it just slipped my mind."

This time the little assassin didn't move when the boys jumped forwards, tightly hugging Five.
"You know I also want all my bones intact by the end of the day." He said in a constricted voice, the glad boys hopping back immediately.

"Sorry." Marcus muttered rather sheepishly, an excited expression quickly returning.
"Exactly how old are you now?"

"Physically, still fifteen. Consciously, fifty nine." The little assassin said casually as he fastened the buckle of his watch onto his left wrist.

"Blimey! You're older than half the staff!" The pixie haired boy pointed out in a shocked manner, Cicero silently confused.
"I guess I am."

The snowy blond stared at the old teen with furrowed eyebrows, speaking slowly.
"How are you physically still fifteen? You were fifteen yesterday."

Five shook his head, forcing an untruthful smile to make its way to his face.
"That, is a story for another day. Come on guys, I know that you're dying to see the carved pumpkins in the dining hall."

His habitual look of displeasure fell over his face as the three exited the clean dorm, moving quietly through the halls and opening the large birch doors that let the loud chatter of children and papery flapping of bats spill in - the enchanted roof above showing off a cloudy dull sky that looked far too gloomy for the joy spreading throughout Hogwarts.

They seated themselves over at the far end of the oblong table where it was less crowded, small mountains of the regular breakfast filling a majority of it - a couple bowls filled to the brim wi the varied candies scattered around it like random confetti.

Marcus immediately grabbed a handful of the vibrant confectionery, Cicero helping himself to two slices of butter and sweet strawberry jam toast - Five merely picking out an odd lime green apple that was both sour and sweet at once.

Time ticked on, and the old teen's two friends were deep in a conversation about the owls exams they were to partake in the next year.

Tom was nowhere to be found on the large Slytherin table, his goons were the only ones present - all dressed in expensive looking clothing, smirking smugly and looking brown upon nearly everyone as if being both pure blood and 'friends' with Riddle made them some of the most important students in the school.

Five suspired lightly, abandoning his search for the raven haired boy - and instead gazing at the boys to the right of him, now speaking with rather animated expressions and motions.

If he failed to prevent the apocalypse, then the sight of everyone being happy and living out their lives would be something he would never see again - the brunet had already lived out most his life, but everyone else was still so young.

It wouldn't be fair to them, if he failed to stop their brutal deaths.
It wouldn't be fair, if he cut their joyful lives off early - the things they would never experience, the heartbreak, happiness, burning rage, passion.

Five mentally prepared himself for what may happen, for what will most likely happen.

The fate of all of these lives in the school, and everywhere else on Earth - rest heavily on the old teen's shoulders like billions of weights.

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