𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒 | h. potter

1 | Vitam Et Mortem

CHAPTER ONE: VITAM ET MORTEM

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Maya didn't believe for a second that she was still alive. From the moment she could feel again, everything felt wrong.

The fabric beneath her fingers were too soft, the cocoon that covered her from her shoulders down to her feet was too warm, the light behind her eyelids was too bright. She couldn't even feel any pain, and that was saying something when it was all she had ever known. So, when she finally opened her eyes?

She was pretty fucking sure the man in front of her was Jesus.

She hurriedly sat up. The man smiled pleasantly at her, blue eyes twinkling as he watched her slowly dissolve into a mind-numbing panic.

Where the hell was she? Was this man really Jesus? He didn't look like the chipped paintings of the man she'd seen in the abandoned churches she used to sleep in — in fact, he looked more like an eccentric old wizard with a preference for creepily long beards. But if this really was Heaven, then wouldn't that mean she was dead? She couldn't be.

She can't be.

She could vaguely remember running for her life, and slogging through an alleyway with her guts spilling out from her sides — instantly her hand went to her waist, and she could feel the thick scar that marred her skin through the fabric of clothes that weren't hers. Then she remembered a great hulk of a man, and a boy with an owl at his feet, and then falling like a stupid defenceless maiden—

What the hell was she thinking, dropping her guard like that?

She curled her fist.

What was she doing, not thinking of Jesus-Man as a threat?

Her hand reached out for her wand instinctively, only to find it wasn't there. Maya had to remind herself not to panic; just because she didn't have it didn't mean she couldn't defend herself. She had her fists, and her nails, and she could bite and scratch if it got ugly — she'd feel a little bad about attacking senile Jesus but her life was on the line, surely he would understand—

"I think I'll stop you there and tell you that while I may not be Jesus, I most certainly would mind if you started to gauge my eyes out, Miss Riddle."

Maya froze.

Oh.

"Oh, indeed," he repeated, smiling serenely, like he hadn't just read Maya's thoughts and committed what she was pretty sure was a crime. "Ah. You have to understand, it wasn't my intention to invade your privacy. When my Gamekeeper brought you to me we didn't know who you were," he began calmly, folding his fingers on his lap. "In your deliria you were very adamant that we don't inform the authorities and even more against being treated at a hospital, but the injuries you came with were very concerning."

"You—" Maya cut herself off, swallowing harshly. She looked away from the piercing blue eyes, breaking his Legilimency. "You know who I am then," she finished quietly.

She started counting the exits.

"That I do, Miss Riddle."

"Please don't call me that," she hissed abruptly, her heart in her throat as she snapped her eyes up with a glare. "And if you must, then say it quietly."

The man was silent for a while, eyes calculating. Slowly, he said, "It has not been a kind name to you."

Maya pressed her lips into a thin line, resisting the urge to snort with derision. She met his eyes square on. "You've seen my memories, Jes— Sir." He let out a small chuckle at the slip, and Maya fought to keep her face impassive. "And I would appreciate knowing what you've decided to do with that knowledge."