Hogwarts: a school of Witchcraft and Love (Tom Marvolo Riddle x F!reader)

Chapter 4-03

"Alyssa! Alyssa!" You sped through the bustling atmosphere of the Great Hall at top speed, brimming with joyous anticipation. "I've got news!"

Behind a morning edition of The Daily Prophet emerged an all-too-familiar freckled face. "Oh yeah? Well, I've got news too," she teased back at you.

You couldn't contain yourself any longer. "Guess who just got accepted into the Gryffindor Quidditch team? That would be me!"

Her green irises agape as saucers, Alyssa leapt up from where she sat and hugged you in congratulations. "No way! That's amazing! Congrats! You're gonna rock the field!"

You still felt dazed and blushed as you thanked her. Her words of encouragement filled you with pride knowing that representing Gryffindor on the field was going to be an unforgettable experience for both yourself and those cheering alongside. You had no doubt you were going to give it all you got at every match.

The memory of sharing the news about making it on the Quidditch team wasn't nearly good enough. Your happiness should have bursted out of your wand in a full-blown patronus, not a white fizzle.

All around, there was a flurry of shuffling feet and spell murmuring. Most of your classmates had already achieved impressive feats with their patronuses after only two hours of practice—flying, hopping, and spinning around—while you were one of the last to make it.

This might be the time where Lockhart's teaching was actually more effective than Dumbledore's. Dumbledore taught with wisdom and always got the core of the lessons through to his pupils, where Lockhart, with his theatrics, was good in giving your morale a boost when things weren't going well.

He just finished the cheer you needed to try it again.

Your feet were frozen in place for a while until they started walking again, without any order from yourself—almost like your feet knew where to go better than you yourself did. Following some unseen force taking you through winding paths around gardens and trees over cobblestone walkways.

Seeing Hogwarts Castle during the day had you awestruck, surpassing the nighttime view by miles.

*Puff*

... What was that? If not even the experience of seeing Hogwarts in all its glory for the first time did it, what would?!

The wand between your fingers, an 11" piece of holly, was supposed to be an extension of your arm, but it behaved like your broken broomstick—like it had a mind of its own and didn't want to do anything to do with you.

The patronus charm had to be out of your league. It was known to be an advanced spell, but if even Tom couldn't do it, then there had to be more to it.

While your inability to produce it was excusable, for him, it was unimaginable. As top of the class in every subject, he held himself to an impossibly high standard, which made him performing worse than you a lot more puzzling. His wand, 13" of yew, acted like it was an ordinary piece of wood.

You could see it run through him. That snarl that tickled at the edges of his lips, the way each tendon in his hand flexed on the handle of his weapon and his eyes, dilated with annoyance, trained on his instructor, Lockhart, who he faulted for the sorry state of things.