Of Monsters and Men- Tom Riddle x OC

42

"Gellert drew this when we were young," she murmured to herself as much as she did to Tom. "He promised that one day he would build us a house far away from Hungary. From our father." Looking blankly at the stone wall in front of her, Animo allowed the memory of her brother's eyes to hover for a moment. "He began to hold meetings not long after our father died, filling our house with strange wizards."

Tom said nothing. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Animo strode forward, breaking into the small room that lay at the bottom of the cellar. The possessions there were in perfect order. A handful of chairs were spaced on one side of the sandy floor, their wooden limbs carved to appear serpentine. On the opposite area sat a simple desk that was complete with iron carvings. A single quill lay perched against the wood, the crimson feather flecked with gold.

Animo moved closer, hesitation slowing her steps. "Is that—"

"From a phoenix," Tom confirmed, seeming to heed her earlier warning as he ran his fingers through the air above the quill. "And the markings are rare."

Swallowing once more, Animo tore her gaze away from the feather while she returned to the desk with a renewed purpose. She knew the markings of the quill all too well. But such a connection was impossible. Surely.

Running her fingers over the surface, she tried to pry at the largest drawer beneath. To her frustration, the lock wouldn't budge and Animo bent, peeking through the keyhole as her matted hair spilled about her shoulders.

"Honestly, you would think you had never heard of magic."

Sighing softly under her breath, Animo ignored Tom's barb, resting her forehead against the desk while she sank to her knees. She should have been able to find some sort of clue. She was his sister—

"Oh broomsticks," Animo cursed, sinking back on her heels. If Gellert had left anything, it wouldn't have been for her. Not only was she lost to time, but Animo had taken second place after the arrival of golden-haired optimist in her brother's life. Closing her eyes, she tried to recall some sort of memory between them before puffing out a sigh of frustration. "For the Greater Good?"

The drawer didn't budge at her tentative murmur. Tom grumbled something under his breath, but Animo didn't pay attention.

"The password isn't going—"

Running her hand over the blistering burn on her arm, Animo tried to make sense of the thoughts in her head. The ghost of her brother as a child hovered at the back of her mind, waiting to be addressed. But she couldn't afford that. The only reason Animo had remained so put together was because of Tom, who would have had little sympathy for her floundering.

Her thumb grazed over the edge of the triangle-shaped mark on her bicep, the old burn jagged and puffed with irritation. Animo stiffened, covering Gellert's symbol with her sweaty palm. But it had never been his to begin with.

"The Deathly Hallows."

This time, her whisper was greeted with a small click and the drawer swung open, revealing a dark compartment. Reaching inside, Animo inhaled sharply as her elbow dipped far below where the bottom of the desk should have been. There was some sort of room in the desk itself.

"I wonder if he got the idea from Scamander." Tom watched her movements carefully, still hanging back in the corner. He clearly had no desire to meet one of Gellert's curses. "I've read that he keeps an array of magical creatures in a briefcase."

Placing one foot into the drawer, Animo winced at the sinking sensation. It was as though her foot were pushing through a wall of pudding, only for the jelly to sink back around it. "The author of Fantastic Beasts?"