Catharsis [Tom Riddle]

Chapter Twelve

Avalon and Tom soon fell into the habit of meeting nearly every night in the Room of Requirement, spending hours upon hours in its lonesome isolation with nothing but each other's company and the presence of countless books to keep them busy. They studied the proper spells for several days, finally agreeing to transform the coin into a crow-- an animal big enough to earn a good mark, yet small enough to be an attainable goal.

It had been about three days of them now solely focusing on practicing the spell, their wands permanently woven into their fingers as they recited the same incantation over and over again, to no avail. It was the first time Avalon had seen Riddle struggle with a spell, and she could see his frustration growing with each failed attempt to morph the coin into a living bird. After each time he cast the spell with no success, he would bury his hands into his black curls, tugging at the strands of hair as he returned his attention to a book to see if he had missed a key piece of information that could help him. Contrary to his usually put-together self, he looked quite disheveled in that moment, with his curls imperfectly scruffed from hours of agitated tugging and tussling.

She was having no better luck with the task at hand, though, and the small golden coin merely stared at them, mocking their hindered ability to perfect the spell each time they cast it and nothing changed.

It was a Saturday night, and Avalon's mind was dozing away after spending the majority of her time on her day off from classes in the same small room, constantly bickering back and forth with Riddle as they cast the same failed spell on an endless loop for what seemed like forever. His determination was relentless-- he didn't look like he had the intention of leaving any time soon, though she was nearing her own limit. He never gave up, she was beginning to learn. Nothing bothered him more than failure, and he was persistent in his quest to master the magic at hand.

"How much longer do you plan on staying here?" she asked, wondering what hour it was. Her best guess was sometime after midnight, though she wasn't too sure. Time blended together within the confinement of the Room of Requirement. He shrugged absentmindedly as he tried to cast the spell once more on the coin, with no success. "I'm going to go to bed," she said, not particularly expecting an answer, and not surprised when she received none. Instead, she stood and walked to the exit, leaving without another word.

Their study sessions always left her feeling drained. They argued from start to finish, and he had a terrible habit of speaking down to her at every chance he got-- which she gladly would reciprocate, though it tired her after days of endless back and forth. He had no capability for kindness, she had decided. The only times she saw glimpses of humanity within him were when he would get closer to making a breakthrough-- his eyes, usually so devoid of emotion, would light up at the prospect of a newfound grasp of knowledge, only to dull back down when the disappointment of his failure would set in. And, Merlin, did he hate to fail.

When she stepped outside, the dark night sky shadowed the hallway through the moonlit windows, reminding her of the late hour. Rain was pouring in a thunderous storm, the sky's tears crashing down to the earth in violent drops while the song of the wind howled outside as a melancholy symphony. She found herself walking towards a window and glancing out at the expansive outdoors, a feeling of bitter nostalgia overcoming her as she thought about how that same night sky had been ablaze with a crumbling shield of defensive spells just hours before Voldemort and his followers had come and slaughtered so many people right inside these very walls.

The ghosts of their memories danced through her mind and plagued her vision everywhere she looked. She found it hard to walk where they walked without thinking of the losses she had endured. Images of their lifeless bodies littered across the floor swam before her eyes as incessant reminders of the carnages of the war she had lived through.