butterfly effect, tom riddle

24. | past

"So, how was America?"

My gaze snapped up from the pages of my History of Magic spellbook, meeting a pair of dark chestnut eyes. It was Maverick Avery, one of Tom's 'Knights' who sat next to me in the Room of Requirements.

I was currently in the common room, flipping listlessly through the pages of my spellbook as a form of studying, and I had barely noticed Avery plop down next to me.

"Er," I began, eyeing him uncertainly as his thin lips curved into an impish grin.

"I'm Maverick," he introduced, sticking out his hand for me to shake. "Maverick Avery."

"I know," I informed him tonelessly, taking his hand and shaking it with slight hesitance. "I'm—"

"Viviette Swan," Maverick cut in, his crooked grin widening. "I know, too."

I cocked an eyebrow up at him, returning my gaze to the pages of my spellbook with evident disinterest. I had no interest in conversing with a person who avidly supported the idea of blood supremacy—even if that was slightly hypocritical of me, seeing as I was now also part of Tom's rather disturbing band of early death eaters.

"Not very polite, are you?" chuckled Maverick, seemingly unbothered by my rudeness.

I offered him an answer in the form of turning a page, feeling slightly wary of who he was but not willing to let my caution show.

"I just want to get to know you better," Maverick explained with a small sigh. "We all do."

I stared up curiously at him to see that he was ruffling his sandy hair in an absent-minded fashion. Once he noticed my gaze upon him again, that mischievous grin found its way back to his face.

"Who's 'we'?" I questioned, though I already suspected who it was.

"The Knights," Maverick clarified. "Well, with the possible exception of Abraxas and Theodore—first time I've seen them agree on something."

As if on cue, footsteps and groans emitting from the boys' dormitories captured my attention. My head snapped leftwards and I knitted my brows as I looked over my shoulder at a dreadfully familiar group of boys entering the common room.

Most of them sported curious expressions on their faces when they glanced at me—except for a couple of unpleasantly familiar boys; Abraxas Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Malfoy had an expression of utter irritation etched to his sharp features, while Nott appeared mostly awkward, mumbling to himself dubiously.

I glanced back at Maverick with an inquiring raise of my eyebrows, only for him to respond with a crafty smirk.

One of the boys caught my attention by confidently striding up to where Maverick and I were sitting. There was something startlingly familiar about his face—I couldn't exactly pinpoint what.

His strawberry blond hair was styled in a carefully messy disarray, and his forest green eyes reminded me of a rather unpleasant acquaintance—

"I'm Anthony," he declared proudly, sticking out his hand for me to shake in a formal manner. "You might know my twin sister."

"Your twin sister—Anita Rosier?" I asked, furrowing my brows in mistrust as I eyed his hand doubtfully.

"That is right," Anthony confirmed with a polite nod of his head. "We wished to officially introduce you to ourselves, seeing as you are part of us now."

I quirked an eyebrow up at him, feeling a mixture of suspicion and amusement at his attitude, when Abraxas stepped forwards, scowling.

"I don't see why," he sneered, his cold grey eyes boring into mine like daggers. "There is nothing remarkable about her."