Masquerade- Tom Riddle Fanfiction

Conundrum

Addie's POV

     That night, those horrible nightmares brewed in my sleep. With them, came the memories. I was dragged from my mother's silent body, her eyes unblinking as the world shattered around me. I was locked inside a dungeon; cold manacles cutting into my wrists. The world was transparent through the smudged window; no one cared that the ten year old girl was tortured; the whole world slept on through the night while my howls of agony cut through the walls. That horrible brand imprinted on my wrist with a cruel wand-- the sign of the Deathly Hallows. I was no longer free, I was bound to the mark. And laughter. That cruel, eerie laughter. I was enriched in a life filled with empty servitude; all of those twisted experiments ensuring that I would remain a lackey. In this life or the next, I was always the pawn.

I remembered casting the memory charm; my eleven year old self casting it without remorse, too afraid of disobeying. My days in Durmstrang and Beauxbatons; two of the top schools in Europe. I had wrapped a layer of steel around my emotions to keep out the guilt; replacing my face with a mask of an empty brained prankster. Whenever the sign would burn, I would give those cold reports on the schools; infiltrating and acting. I was a despicable coward. The scene changed. I was on my knees, a high pitched laughter sounding in my ears. There was a flash of green light, a thud, and then everything went black...

    I awoke with a start, cold sweat streaming down my brow. Morning had broken through the curtains; Izzy shaking me impatiently and telling me to go to the team. Right, it was the Quidditch game between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Getting dressed, I hurried downstairs with Izzy as we came to the table. The Slytherin table was glaring at me and the team; while Gryffindor and Ravenclaw watched on avidly. 

    I plopped into a seat and began eating my toast, throwing sarcastic waves now and then. The toast was very good. Then, the familiar whistle was blown and as an entire group, each Quidditch team filed out of the tables and headed towards the changing rooms. I hurriedly changed into my robes and pulled out my broom. 

The Quidditch stadium was blanketed with snow; our boots crunching through the white crystals. The weather was remarkably fair for a game-- the wind was cold but steady and the sunlight shone dimly from the grey clouds. "Remember, team," Thomas had warned us in the changing rooms, "this is it-- Beaters keep the Bludger from the Seeker and Chasers follow my lead." He turned towards me, his eyes grim with determination. "Remember, don't get the Snitch until we are thirty points up. Do you have other tricks from Durmstrang?" He turned towards me pointedly.

I searched my mind, immediately thinking of the Wronski Feint. But it was too advanced for a Seeker of my caliber. "I can use a deviation from some other moves, but I am fairly confident." Apparently, Thomas was not as fairly confident as me. With a whisper, he made us join hands together in some kind of bloody friendship circle before chanting, "Hufflepuff!"I admired the sentiment, but to be honest, Durmstrang would have found our antics to be that of a little school girl with pigtails. I still vividly remembered the punching ritual, though.

We exited the changing rooms as the Hufflepuff side drew into a mighty applause. The other two Houses, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were also joined on our side-- despite the fact that the Gryffindor Seeker was glaring bullets into the back of my skull. I took the liberty to ignore him.

  Norbert Shanty was once again commentating, his hat set at a jaunty angle. Madame Broomtail's shrill whistle kicked off the game. "And it's Michael from Hufflepuff-- he takes possession of the Quaffle and is now passing it to the very beautiful Alexandra Heart, who I'm going to ask out pretty soon--"