Oh, Merlin, where am I now? she thought, dismally.
The girl knew she certainly wasn’t in her hotel anymore, and definitely not in her room. She looked down at herself and saw she was still wearing the small navy coloured tank top and sweats she went to bed in. Emory eyed her hands oddly. No bruises or anything around her wrists, so she probably wasn’t kidnapped. It was hard for her to not add the mental “yet”.
The young witch yawned slightly and kept moving down the hallway, determined to find a way out. She quickly stopped when a boy stepped out a meter or so in front of her.
Emory stared down the hallway. Her heart gave a lurch that wasn’t altogether unpleasant as she looked at him. The allure of mystery that surrounded him seemed to thicken as Emory noticed he looked exactly the same as his picture. Same jet-black hair falling to just above his eyebrows, same piercing knowledgeable eyes (except in person they were the colour of graphite), and the same far too arrogant smirk. Emory's breathing quickened slightly.
The boy took a step toward her, his head slightly tilted, and his expression unreadable as the dim candlelight threw shadows across his face.
The sound of her name falling from his lips sounded more foreign than the most exotic of languages. It also made shivers run down her spine and goose flesh erupt on her arms. Emory closed her dark eyes and took a deep breath, trying to center herself. When she opened them, he stood just in front of her, consuming her with his gaze....
... middle of paper ...
Tom’s sharp eyes traveled to the banner behind what would have been the staff table; it was in colour, too. How…odd. The rest of the Hall was still the same.
Check the dorms, he thought wildly, and nearly ran to see.
Over half an hour later (though Tom thought it was likely to be less), he stood in the full coloured Slytherin Common Room awkwardly clutching his hand. Drops of scarlet fell from a jagged cut on his palm. Slytherin’s Heir was fairly certain it’d happened after he threw the vase, but that wasn’t what mattered at the moment. It hurt. He could feel little needles of pain shooting through his hand and arm. A not quite sane laugh bubbled to his lips.
He was getting stronger, that’s why everything was changing. The elation that knowledge brought made him laugher more.
“Ow! Dammit,” he cursed, wincing.
Tom decided it was a good time to look for a bandage.
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