In the Shadow of the beginning
I have walked this path more times than I can count. Through ages that rise and fall, through worlds that burn and bloom anew. The threads of fate, invisible to most, feel worn in my hands now-frayed in places that should not fray.
But even eternity can surprise you.
It happened in Diagon Alley
I wandered without purpose, stepping between merchants and witches draped in rich fabrics, though none could see me. There was comfort in anonymity. They moved as if I wasn’t there-because to them, I wasn’t.
Until him.
He was a boy, no older than sixteen. His dark hair fell in neat waves, but his eyes- there was something sharp, something cold lurking behind them. He walked with a grace that didn’t belong to someone that young.
Tom Riddle - Oh the Irony
He passed through the crowd like a blade through silk, and as he did, he brushed against me.
It was the briefest touch.
And yet, when he stepped back, those dark eyes flicked towards mine. And blue met green. His gaze narrowed, and I felt it. The weight of being seen
I wasn’t supposed to be visible.
“Oh,” he said lightly, as if commenting on the weather. “Apologies. I didn’t realise you were there.”
Then just like that, he continued down the street, as if bumping into an ancient immortal being was nothing more than stepping on someone’s cloak.
I stood there for a long moment, watching him disappear around a corner.
How curious