❝ ah, but it was not tom riddle who made the dark mark. ❞ dumbledore's eyes fogged over, a memory of the once-smart and cunning student entering his mind as he stroked his white beard.
❝ then who did, sir? ❞ harry potter stared at the headmaste...
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POTIONS class was going well, surprisingly, considering the fact that Athena was paired up with Riddle. "Well" was another word for silence. Complete and utter silence hung between the two as they worked on their potion.
The only time Athena let out a noise was when she hissed after slicing her finger while cutting an ingredient for their Babbling Potion—a potion that made the drinker speak nonsense.
Athena wondered if Lucinda had drunk some when she had overheard her mumbling to herself while searching for a knife two minutes ago.
After asking Druella—who reassured her that Lucinda was just grumpy that morning—Lucinda had shot her a half-hearted glare as Athena muttered an apology to her, while ignoring Druella's laughter over it.
The now-bloody knife was snatched out of her hands by her potions partner, Tom Riddle—who was staring at her bleeding finger with an emotion Athena hadn't recognized before it turned into a sneer.
"You cannot handle chopping one ingredient, Malfoy?" Riddle shook his head with a clenched jaw.
With a wave of his wand, the cutting board beneath the ingredient was free of any trace of blood, and so was the knife.
Riddle then continued chopping while ignoring Athena's glare.
Muttering a profanity at him under her breath, Athena waved her hand over her bleeding finger—the blood vanishing and the wound closing up.
She looked up to see Riddle's eyes on her—a frown displayed on his face.
"How?" Riddle almost demanded, his brows slowly furrowing. An edge of curiosity lay in his voice, but it was hidden beneath the demand.
Athena ignored him and looked into the cauldron, giving it a mix.
When she noticed him still looking at her—the action of his cutting the ingredient almost forgotten—she rolled her eyes again. "What, Riddle?" she snapped.
His gaze narrowed, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He motioned tensely toward her now-healed finger. "The wandless magic. How can you do that?"
Slowly, her lips turned into a smirk. "Can't help the fact that I'm actually better than you at something, can you?"
The mockery in her tone made him glare at her, anger flooding his heart—something only Athena Malfoy could provoke so quickly. "Malfoy," he said, "you cannot be better than me."
With that, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Then, with a subtle wave of his hand, the chopped ingredient on the cutting board floated effortlessly into the cauldron, guided by a gentle motion of his finger.
Athena stilled, forcing herself not to gawk. And yet—with the shock that she felt—anger made her throat close up, made her feel breathless as she snarled, "How?"
