i am lord voldemort • Tom Riddle

XXV:

All things considered, it was a slow day around Hogwarts. A slow week really. In fact, Ophelia thought, it could be rounded up to a slow month.

That's how she found herself in the Slytherin common room, all the furniture pushed back against the walls, watching a good proportion of the House establish their own medieval hierarchy. First years dueled fifth years, seventh years dueled fourth years, age didn't factor into the matchups whatsoever. They were utterly lawless, and reveled in it. Ophelia would have felt the need to step in when a fresh faced first year girl got matched with the burly seventh year Quidditch team captain, where it not for the fact that her interruption would not have been welcome from either side. She settled for sitting at the edge of the fray with her face buried in her hands and her wand calculatedly out of reach. Tom made it painfully clear what he thought of that, but tucked it into his pocket nonetheless with the air of a long-suffering, yet tired, parent.

Maybe she was being a little overdramatic. Maybe. That still didn't mean she wanted to run the risk of accidentally-on-purpose intervening.

"Come on, little coward," Rabastan taunted. "And you call yourself a Gryffindor. We need another person to even out the numbers."

"To even out... what, exactly?" Ophelia asked. She thus far assumed they were being guided only by god's of chaos and anarchy.

Rabastan folded his arms over his chest and looked like he thought she might be a few players short of a full quidditch team. "Are you really asking that?"

"They need an even number of people if they are going to duel in a tournament," Tom explained.

"You say that like you're not involved," Rabastan said pointedly.

"I'm merely letting life take its course," Tom stated with a shrug.

Ophelia seriously doubted that the teachers would accept that as a proper response, especially coming from everyone's most adored prefect.

"I want no part of this. Dueling for fun isn't what I'd consider a good time," she said.

To exemplify her point, she dug herself further into the couch, like a fox burrowing into its den.

Rabastan wagged his finger condescendingly. "You just don't want to be shown up by an eleven year old."

Ophelia couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her chest. "Maybe you kids need to fight to establish dominance or whatever, but I'm perfectly content in my knowledge that I'd wipe the floor with all of you and don't feel the need to prove it," she said sweetly, with enough joking pretension to give him a run for his money.

"Are you going to take that, Tom?" Rabastan grinned. "She just said she could beat you."

"This might come as a surprise to you, but I'm not actually hard of hearing," Tom told him wryly. "Although... for once, I might agree with you." He turned the full force of his focus on Ophelia, a distinct challenge in his eyes.

She didn't need Legilimency to know where this was going. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no!"

"Let's see if your confidence is justified," Tom said, rising fluidly to his feet and reaching forward to pull her up by the forearms.

She wasn't having it.

"No," she repeated, defiantly burying them beneath her, while he did his best to tug them free.

"You're being immature."

"And you're being tyrannical," Ophelia laughed.

"You're both being ridiculous," Fenella cut in, striding over, her arms crossed imperiously over her chest. "Regardless, you," she pointed one finger at Ophelia, "are taking part of this. You have no choice. I finally have the chance to beat you in a duel fair and square, and I won't have you backing out."