"You're absolutely infuriating." He breathed out, pressing her body against the bookshelf with his own. His dark eyes brewed with irritation, and another emotion she couldn't quite decipher.
"Trust me." She said, her chest heaving with every bre...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
October 2nd, 1943
"Why would you want to know about the sorcerer's stone?" Tom's eyes snapped up to Cerys, the light of the fireplace reflecting in them and his perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitting together when her heard 'the sorcerer's stone'.
"You know about it?" He asked slowly.
"What makes you think that?" Cerys said.
"You said the sorcerer's stone." Tom's eyes narrowed. He didn't miss the way the girl before him stilled for a moment.
Cerys hadn't realized that 'the sorcerer's stone' had slipped out of her mouth instead of 'the philosopher's stone.' The term 'philosopher's stone' was usually used when regarding the myths associated with the stone, mainly because no one really believed in it, and not many were aware of the creators. Whereas the sorcerer's stone was something she heard about more, seeing as Voldemort had been after it in Hogwarts in Potter's first year. Cerys had heard many rumours, such as Quirrel himself was actually Voldemort, and that Quirrel used to report to Voldemort, while some even said that Voldemort was hidden on the back of Quirrel's head, but no one really knew the truth, and Cerys was far from knowing it since she wasn't present in that year.
"I asked you something." Tom pressed.
"I asked you something as well, and it seems I'm still awaiting an answer." Cerys shot back, causing Tom's teeth to grit. Somehow, he always ended up in a situation like this with her.
"What do you think about immortality?" Cerys' face remained stoic, Tom observed. Nothing gave off her reaction.
"I think it's a pathetic concept for those who wish to run away from death." Began the witch. "Immortality is a fate worse than death."
A frown was etched across Tom's face. Clearly, he did not like the witch's opinion. The book in his hands was closed, now, and he was ready to argue with the girl in order to make her understand. After all, he needed her to support his stance so he could recruit her. If she was against it, he couldn't make her a part of his knights.
"What makes you think that?" Tom asked.
Cerys rolled her eyes. "You're not as smart as I thought." Tom narrowed his eyes, the fingers of his right hand curling around the arm rest of the chair he sat in. Nonetheless, he remained silent, allowing the girl to continue. "Who would want to live forever to watch the world around you wither away?"
"The world withers away because it's in the wrong hands."
"And whose hands should it be in, yours?" Cerys knew the answer to what she asked would be. She knew she was provoking him, but, at the moment, this was the only door she could see.
