┈┈⛧┈ tom riddle era au ⋆* post hogwarts⋆* romantic subplot ⋆* the knights of walpurgis
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Three years after Adelaide Riddle abandons London to sculpt her own life - away from the Wizarding world and her br...
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THE TRAIN'S RYTHMATIC chugging and the compartment's gentle sway created a strangely serene atmosphere, the sound fading into the background like a lullaby.
The residents of Malfoy Manor had ventured out at the break of dawn, abandoning the palatial halls for the bustling train station. Each sought refuge in their sleeping compartments, eager to reclaim the sleep stolen by the early hour.
To Adelaide's horror, the sleeping compartments she had envisioned as havens of rest turned out to be claustrophobic and stifling. With a grimace, she pivoted on her heels and took to occupy a standard compartment, the silence enveloping her like a comforting shroud. Nestled in the corner, she attempted to lose herself in the words of a book, yet found herself unable to escape the thoughts that plagued her mind.
Three months had passed since her arrival, and Adelaide still found herself grappling with the unfathomable reality of her circumstances. Here she sat, a couple of walls away from Tom and his wretched group of thugs, bound together with the weight of their collective ambition.
How in the bloody fuck were they supposed to find a god's angel?
And even more pressing to her was the question of it all being real.
The thoughts flooded into her mind like a million tempestuous curses. 'Gods didn't exist', she thought. How many prayers she had declared from the edge of her slumber that were disregarded, refused. And if an all-powerful being truly existed, then by gods was it cruel.
No benevolent God would allow such suffering, not to a six-year-old girl. She wouldn't believe it until she saw it—standing face to face with a deity so unfairly rare.
Until she witnessed it, this so-called good God that men fought and died for—then this grand being that turned her away, was not one she would brook.
The world had evaded her grasp in every aspect. It wasn't merely her wavering faith or her failure to break free from her witch's psyche. It was a myriad of irrevocable factors. Her elder brother, the sly and ever-beguiling Tom Riddle, was beyond redemption. Evan Rosier, with his insatiable thirst for glory, was irreparable.
Yet, amidst this sense of permanence, she had hopes and dreams. And she would cling to them because that was the only thing she could truly own.
However, she knew hope was a foreign concept to their realm. They denounced the mere innocence of it. The yearning felt like a fragile, delicate flower struggling to bloom in a barren wasteland. She chided herself for entertaining such naive optimism.
Caution was her constant companion, a shield against the sharp edges of betrayal and disappointment that lurked in the shadows. Still, her guard always faltered in the face of Longing, urging her to believe in the possibility of something more. The young girl would yet to fully realize that perhaps longing, too, could become an imposter.
