Chapter 8

After saying goodbye to Abraxas and his friends, I leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Don't get into trouble," I murmured teasingly. He rolled his eyes but smiled, shaking his head as Alexie and I turned to leave.

Walking through the dimly lit corridors, Alexie was quiet for a moment before blurting out, "What the hell was that back there?"

"What was what?" I asked, feigning innocence. My voice was light, playful even, as my eyes wandered to the portraits on the walls, their inhabitants watching us pass with curious expressions.

"Don't act like you don't know," Alexie said sharply. "Does your brother ever tell you anything about Riddle?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really. I'm not always home, and honestly, I hate writing letters. It's enough effort to keep up with my parents."

Alexie stopped walking and grabbed my arm, forcing me to face her. Her voice dropped to a whisper, her tone urgent. "Carina, that's Tom Riddle. He's top of our year, a Prefect, brilliant—and..." She looked around to make sure no one was listening before continuing, "He's the Heir of Slytherin."

I raised an eyebrow, pretending to be intrigued. "Really? Now that is interesting."

Of course, I already knew. Riddle's lineage was hardly news to me. But playing coy was far more entertaining, especially when Alexie's exasperation was so apparent. If I hadn't been reincarnated, maybe I'd have been impressed. As it was, the only thing about Tom Riddle that caught my attention was his face. Gods, I really am a sucker for pretty things.

When we entered the Great Hall, the sight was as magnificent as I'd remembered. Floating candles hovered in midair, casting a warm glow over the enchanted ceiling, which tonight displayed a clear, starry night with a crescent moon. The long tables were laden with silver goblets and platters piled high with food. The hum of conversation and laughter echoed through the vast room.

As we walked toward the Slytherin table, I noticed boys from various houses glancing in our direction. Some stared openly, while others whispered to their neighbors. I smiled at them, my expression warm and inviting—the same practiced smile that had earned me countless admirers at Beauxbatons. My life there had been smooth sailing, thanks to a legion of eager boys ready to do my bidding. Why not recreate that here?

Alexie tugged at my sleeve, whispering harshly, "What are you doing?"

I stifled a laugh. "I'm just being nice," I said innocently.

"By flirting with them?" she hissed.

"Flirting?" I chuckled softly. "This is just smiling. Flirting is… something else entirely." I winked at her, enjoying her flustered expression, and we continued to our seats at the Slytherin table.

As we sat down, a girl across from us leaned forward. She was pretty, with sharp green eyes and long blonde hair. "Hi, I'm Cassiopeia Greengrass," she introduced herself, her tone polite but curious.

"Carina Malfoy," I replied, smiling.

Cassiopeia's eyes widened slightly. "Malfoy? Abraxas's twin sister? I've heard about you. Didn't you attend Beauxbatons?"

"I did," I said, tilting my head slightly. "But things change. I'm here now."

Cassiopeia nodded, her curiosity clearly piqued. "Well, welcome to Hogwarts. If you need help finding your way around or have questions about the professors, feel free to ask."

"Thank you," I said graciously.

As we talked, Cassiopeia suddenly leaned in conspiratorially. "I've heard that Tom Riddle stayed at your house last Yule," she said, her tone casual but clearly probing for information.

My smile didn't falter, though the statement caught me off guard. "Did he?" I said lightly. "I wouldn't know. I wasn't home—I spent Yule at Beauxbatons."

Cassiopeia nodded, looking thoughtful. "He's quite remarkable, you know. Top of our year, a Prefect, and he's accomplished things most wizards our age wouldn't dream of."

Alexie chimed in, clearly eager to join the conversation. "He's already made a name for himself. He solved the whole thing with Myrtle Warren—the Ravenclaw girl who died last year. Everyone was terrified, but Tom found the culprit."

"Really?" I asked, feigning interest.

"Yes," Cassiopeia said, lowering her voice. "Some say it was a creature—something dangerous. But Tom managed to find it and put a stop to it. It's incredible, really."

As I listened to their stories, I couldn't help but think about the truth. Myrtle's death… that was when he created his first Horcrux. The diary. The realization settled heavily in my chest. Abraxas's loyalty to Tom meant I was already entangled in this mess, whether I liked it or not.

Alexie suddenly smirked. "You know, Walburga Black has been fawning over Tom for ages. She's absolutely obsessed with him."

I laughed softly. "Now that's an interesting tidbit."

As the conversation continued, they described Tom's accomplishments—his intelligence, his charm, his ability to command attention. Even Alexie seemed enamored as she recounted stories about him. I smiled and added playful remarks where appropriate, but my mind was elsewhere.

Tom Riddle… the future Dark Lord. The boy who would create chaos to the wizarding world. I sighed internally. I should hate him for this. For dragging everyone into his web of ambition and darkness. But then I remember that face…

A small smile tugged at my lips. If I have to live through this madness, I might as well enjoy the view. And perhaps, if I play my cards right, I can guide him through this quest for power. After all, if he fails, what's the use of having a second chance at life if we're all rotting in Azkaban?