butterfly effect, tom riddle

10. | past

"I don't have a permission slip," I admitted with a small smile. "You?"

"I...I've never had the need for it until now," he confessed reluctantly. "I used to buy suits for the Slug Club during my holidays, but I forgot to during the winter."

His penetrative eyes met mine, before glancing away abruptly, almost as if he was...embarrassed.

"That's odd," I commented. "I didn't think you would be the type to pass an opportunity to go to Hogsmeade."

"Then you must not know me as well as you thought, Swan," he answered coldly. "I'd rather stay at school and work on my studies than waste time on childish things in Hogsmeade."

I smirked at that, shrugging my shoulders as a response before turning to the golden gargoyle. It suddenly struck me that I didn't know the password.

"Er...d'you know—"

"Obviously," Tom interrupted, stepping in front of the gargoyle. "I'm a prefect. Amortentia."

I watched in amazement as the gargoyle moved sideways, revealing a golden staircase leading to the Headmaster's quarters. I shot a small, grateful smile at Tom, which he pointedly disregarded as he easily stepped up on one of the steps.

I almost expected him to stretch out a hand to assist me, before realizing that this was Tom Riddle. I huffed as I struggled to get onto one of the steps, and then wiped nonexistent sweat off my brow, smiling up awkwardly at the pale boy.

"Pathetic," he spat, shaking his head at me. I knitted my brows.

"Thank you for your kind compliments," I responded sardonically, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at him. "You know, sometimes I think you have a multiple personality disorder. One day, you're polite and charming, and the next, you're incredibly rude."

"I don't care for your opinions on my personality," he retorted, his nonchalant expression never leaving his face.

Before I could muster a response, the staircase stopped moving. We paused in front of a familiar-looking door, and Tom rapped his knuckles gently against the oak.

"Come in," an elderly voice spoke from within, and Tom pushed the door open, me following behind him. "Ah, Tom—and Miss Swan, I see."

"Good morning, Headmaster," Tom addressed politely, sending a charismatic smile in the old man's direction. "I'm so sorry to disrupt, but I—well, and Viviette here, too—had a question."

"Ask away, my dear Tom," Dippet instructed with a fond smile, nodding at me in acknowledgement.

"I—well, we—were just wondering whether we can have your permission to visit the Hogsmeade village, sir?" Tom quizzed, his tone a perfect balance of politeness and hopefulness. Before Dippet could respond, I spoke up.

"You see, sir, we can't exactly ask our caretaker at the orphanage to sign the permission slip," I told him, stretching my lips into a charming smile. "Muggles, you see."

"Yes, yes, I know, Miss Swan," Professor Dippet sighed. "But I'm afraid nothing on the slip suggests that Hogwarts is a magical school. You can ask the Muggles to sign it with no fear of them finding out about our world."