SALEM ᵈ ᵐᵃˡᶠᵒʸ

i. Sweet Sixteen

I stared at them open-mouthed, reaching out to lightly push a fork that merely floated a few centimeters away. Everything seemed to have its own gravity, but I knew who was behind the phenomena.

The last thing I saw was the glowing wisps of white light swirling around mum's fingertips before the dream changed. 

I found myself in the same forest from my previous dreams. Standing in front of the same big hollow tree at nightfall with the same sickly handsome boy, though this time there was another person with us — a woman.

She spoke out to him, attracting his attention with a velvety voice. There was a sense of calm in her tone, yet upon closer observation the hard edge found was as sharp as a razor.

The young man placed his back on the tree to turn to the woman, admiration flashed through his features but in the blink of an eye, it was passive again.

"Who are you?" he said.

I realized it was the first time I heard him speak, and it was very dangerously lovely. Like the taste of delicious wine, urging you to take more and more until you are deliriously drunk on it.

But when he asked his question, I didn't need to wait for the woman to reply. The way her dark locks cascaded down her back and the dark night eyes to match, I knew her already.

Genevieve, my ancestor.

"The question is who are you?" she said coolly with a raised eyebrow. "It is not everyday a villager finds himself deep in the heart of this forest."

A glint settled in her eyes as she surveyed the boy, her full lips pressing into a thin line.

"Or a wizard who comes to seek the lost relic of Rowena Ravenclaw," she finishes coldly.

Cold chills ran down the length of my spine. I heard about a lost relic from Ravenclaw, gossip that circulated around Hogwarts. It was apparently a tiara encrusted with the most precious stones. All this time I thought it was a myth, but just like Genevieve, it was very much real — and with a jolt in my heart, must've been inside the big hollow of the tree all this time.

The reason why the boy wanted it, I had no idea.

"Who are you?" he asked more forcefully.

Genevieve smiled coldly and introduced herself. I noticed that she didn't have a last name for herself at all.

"I'm guessing you're like me, then," he said and took a cautious step closer with his wand clutched tight. "A witch."

Genevieve let out a dark chuckle. "A witch with far greater powers than you do. So pray tell, Tom Riddle, what exactly it is you want to do with Ravenclaw's lost diadem?"

The breath got knocked out from me, a big punch to the gut that left me breathless and stumbling away from the boy. I stared at him in horror, my heart beating erratically in fear.

Tom Riddle, also know as what he would soon be, Lord Voldemort. The vilest wizard to ever exist.

A wave of darkness washed over Tom's face, oddly making his complexion so much paler and colder. I could've sworn his eyes turned to the color of blood red.

"Power," he spat out malevolently.

Genevieve's features hardened as she let her dark eyes pierce through his. For a split second, I saw realization flash in them.

"You. . ." she hissed, "you dare—"

She cut herself off and took two long strides towards Tom. One second he was getting ready to defend himself, the next he was lying on the forest floor only a few feet away from Genevieve.