A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 39: The Tale of Alice Todd

Chapter 39: The Tale of Alice Todd

The days in the Riddle Estate blurred together, an endless stretch of cold mornings and silent corridors, of waiting for something inevitable, something awful. Anastasia had settled into the rhythm of it—long, uneventful hours spent in the grand library, the weight of expectation pressing down on her like the heavy tomes stacked on the polished oak desks.

Anastasia had always been isolated. In her childhood, she'd been secluded with her cousins from a world outside of their pureblood circles. Then, Hogwarts had fractured her relationship with Sirius. Even still, she had embraced this solitude— after all, it had brought a kind of peace in her life. But here, at the Riddle estate, it wasn't just isolation. Days in, days out, she was cut off from everything. The only person she spoke to was Tom. The only one allowed to speak to her was Tom. House elves ignored her and served in silence. She didn't get any letters, even from her overbearing aunt, nor from Regulus. She had no access to outside news and information, although she was sure that somehow, the world was also burning beyond these walls.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, she had been summoned.

She knew what it meant.

There was a meeting. And meetings at the Riddle Estate always meant one thing.

They had another victim.

She followed the candlelit corridors with practiced steps, the heels of her shoes barely making a sound against the marble floor. The house was silent, but it was not empty. The walls carried whispers, the very foundation of this place soaked in dark magic and the suffering of those who had entered it before her.

By the time she reached the study, she had already braced herself.

Or so she thought.

The moment she stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat.

Suspended above the long mahogany table, levitating lifelessly, was a girl.

Her robes were torn, her skin smeared with dirt and blood. Strands of chestnut brown hair clung to her sweat-slicked face, and her lips were cracked, parted slightly as if she had just finished whispering a plea. But it was her eyes that struck Anastasia the hardest—wide and blue, full of quiet terror and something worse.

Recognition.

Anastasia knew her.

Alice Todd.

An eighth-year Ravenclaw. Muggleborn.

And worst of all—kind.

Alice Todd had never been a friend. They had never spoken outside of necessity, never lingered in each other's company beyond what was required. She was a year above Anastasia, a name she only registered when it was called in passing, a face she only recognised from the dueling seminars they had both attended. But now, standing in the flickering candlelight of the Riddle Estate's study, staring up at Alice's limp, broken form, she thought of every moment—every small, unassuming interaction—that she had never once given weight to.

She thought of Alice standing at the far end of the training hall, adjusting her grip on her wand with quiet focus, never the strongest duelist but quick on her feet, sharp-eyed and determined. She had been clever, measured, not reckless like so many of the others. She never underestimated her opponent, never let frustration dull her movements. Bright. Talented. That was what Anastasia had said. It had been the truth.

She thought of the way Alice had passed her in the hallways, always offering the smallest nod of acknowledgment, never avoiding her gaze the way others did. The way she had once slid a stray parchment across the table in the library when Anastasia's own had drifted to the floor, returning to her studies without expecting so much as a glance in return. The way, after a particularly grueling session in Dueling Seminar, she had stood just a moment longer before leaving the room, hesitating as if considering whether to speak—before simply inclining her head and murmuring, Good match, Gaunt. Anastasia had barely registered it at the time.