Black Widow

STIRRING HER POTION, SHE LOOKED UP AS SHE HEARD THE DOOR OPEN. Flipping a piece of her red hair out of her eyes, she raised her eyebrow at the young boy who stood in the doorway. Snape sneered, looking at the tiny boy in distaste. "Yes, Mr. Creevy?" He drawled out, the boy cowering back from the intimidating man. The blonde-haired boy glanced at Natasha, who waved her fingers at him. Blood flowed to his cheeks and ears, looking quite flustered by the girl.

"Um, Professor Dumbledore sent me to get N-Natasha. The D-Daliy Prophet is here, along with Mr. Olivander." He stuttered out, holding his camera tightly. Snape rolled his eyes, barking out Natasha's last name, and for her to get her things.

Turning off her fire, she quickly packed up her books and swung her bag over her shoulder. Walking over to Snape's desk, she whispered softly, "I'll finish the potion if you want later." Getting a sneer in return, she took that as a yes and walked out the room with Creevy.

His fingers seemed to twitch around the camera that was hung around his neck, glancing at her every few seconds. Raising an eyebrow, she gave the younger boy a look. "So," She started, startling Creevy, "Are you taking pictures for them?"

He nodded quickly, a look of excitement in his eyes, "Oh, yeah!" He exclaimed, a smile on his face, "Dumbledore wanted to know if I wanted to take the pictures, and I immediately agreed! I mean, I love taking pictures, and-- Hey, do you mind if I get a picture of you for my dad? I think it would be really cool if I sent him a picture of a famous person. He's a milkman, so--"

Zoning out the boy, she just let him run his mouth. He'd probably run out of energy with how fast he was talking. Tom appeared next to her, an annoyed look on his usually neutral (or sneering) face. "He doesn't shut up, does he?" He asked, narrowing his grey eyes at the chattering boy.

Rolling her eyes mentally, she chuckled quietly, Please, Tom. You literally never shut up, either. He's just excited by his hobby, and the chance he gets. All you talk about is... whatever your emo mind goes on about. She retorted, smirking slightly at his offended face.

"I am not emo!" He exploded, crossing his arms over his chest grumpily. "I am just emotionally mature, and don't dress in hideous colors," he smirked, looking down at her. Pursing her lips, trying to hold in the laugh that wanted to make its way out of her mouth. Emotionally mature? Was he serious? Did he really think that? He literally throws a hissy fit every time she turns down an idea of his. While yes, she may be an assassin and spy, she does have some morals. She's not about to carve about some man's heart because he has upset Tom. God, he really needed to get into therapy. 

Walking into the room, she glanced at everyone in the room. There was a blonde woman in an outrageous green dress and a manipulative gleam in her eyes. Next were the other champions. A young, blonde french woman and her headmistress. Next was a Bulgarian boy, who had a shaved head, and his headmaster, who looked like he smelled like cow shit and looked like he hadn't brushed his teeth in days. Next was the other Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory, who gave her a kind smile and went back to what he was doing. Dumbledore was also there, but he honestly looked like he was in his own world.

The last male in the room had a mysterious air around him. She locked eyes with him and felt as if he knew all of her secrets. Giving him a slight glare, she looked away and leaned against the wall. "Well," Dumbledore started, clapping his hands together. Natasha ignored Tom's scoff, and continued to give the old man her attention, "I believe we should give Mr. Ollivander our attention first. You don't mind, do you, Miss Rita?" Dumbledore asked, turning towards the woman who was wearing the hideous dress.

She gave the man a tight smile, nodding quickly, "Oh, of course. Go right ahead!" She exclaimed, a quill writing down what she said as she watched the scene in front of her with hungry eyes.

"Ladies first." Olivander smiled, taking Fleur's wand and examining it. He hummed, looking very pleased by her care, and handed it back to the young woman, who held it with a smug look on her face. He continued the process, looking quite pleased with each of the contestants, and finally, it was Natasha's turn.

Handing over her wand, he hummed curiously. "Curious..." He muttered under his breath, bringing the wand closer to his eyes before giving it a quickie flick, lilies flying out of it. "I've never really seen such a combination. Cherry Wood, 10 inches, Horned Serpent Horn,  and surprisingly flexible." He hummed, looking over the wand once more, before handing it back to the ginger with a pleased smile. "You've taken good care of it, Ms. Romanoff.  A perfect match for you. I do hope you continue to take care of it as you do now."

Nodding, she gave the man a smile before the clearing of a throat interrupted the silence. Turning back to the Rita woman, she clapped her hands together. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get a group photo before we do the interviews."

Feeling someone push her forward, she allowed herself to be moved around, eventually landing next to Cedric, who put a hand on her shoulder. Smiling, she watched as the camera went off a few times, and before she knew it, she was being dragged out of the room by Rita. "This seems like a nice place, yes?" Rita smiled, pushing the red-head into the small room.

"This is a broom closet." She flicked away the spider that was twirling down its web. Rita huffed, brushing off her dress and sitting up straight, "Well, It's the perfect space for the two of us. Now, Ms. Potter--"

"--Romanoff." She corrected, raising an eyebrow as a challenge. Rita sniffled, before continuing, "Well, Ms. Romanoff. What was your thought process when you found out you were selected for the tournament."

Humming, Natasha swung one leg over the other, leaning against the wall. "Well, I wasn't quite excited, I'll tell you that. I didn't find joy in finding out that I was illegally placed in a tournament I didn't wanna be in." Her lips quivered in a sarcastic smile as she watched the quills write something completely different from what she said. Rolling her eyes, she waited for the woman to ask the next question.

"Ah," Ritta clapped her hands together, leaning forward, a hungry gaze in her eyes, "How do you think you're going to do in this tournament?" She asked, her foot tapping on the ground impatiently, her hand on her cheek. Glancing down at the woman's tapping foot, she fought the urge to tell her to shut up.

Clearing her throat, she coughed as dust flew from the ceiling. After she finally calmed down from her coughing fit, she pursed her lips in annoyance. "Well, I don't quite know as I don't know what the tasks will be. But, I hope I'll do good." She replied, watching the quill go up and down.

Rita smiled -- an almost too wide of a smile, showing her canines -- and asked, "And what do your parents think of this? Do you miss them, or wish you could go back in time--!"

Holding up her hand, she stopped the woman, "I'm sorry. I'm not about to let you use my parent's death as a way to get more reads for your stupid article. Can we finish this up, so I don't have to look at your awful fashion choices anymore?" She snapped, narrowing her green eyes at the woman, who stared at her with an offended face.

Rita blinked a few times stupidly, a shocked look on her face -- her mouth wide open in shock. After a few moments of awkward silence, a forced smile made its way onto her face. "Yes. Um, how do you think your parents would think of you being in Slytherin?"

Standing up, she opened the door, "Yeah. We're done." She said, slamming the door shut on the woman and locking it shut. Walking away from the scene, she rolled her eyes at the woman. The nerve of her! While yes, she didn't really care what her parents thought of her; they've been dead for over 13 years, she wasn't about to let that woman use their deaths as a way to get more reads on her stupid paper.

Listening to the cheers of the crowd wasn't doing anything to cure Natasha's headache. Glancing down at the moving figurine, she really wanted to choke the life out of who decided dragons would be a good first task.

She got the most dangerous dragon out of all of them; The Hungarian Horntail. She narrowed her eyes as she watched the little dragon chew on her finger aggressively. Rolling her eyes, she flicked the dragon off her finger, who simply huffed and covered its face with its wing. Who knew dragons could be such drama queens?

In front of her, Tom was paced — a nervous look on his face. "Do you remember the plan, Natasha?" He asked, his appearance slightly hayward due to Natasha's emotions. Taking in a deep breath, she crossed her arms over her chest, giving the man an annoyed smile.

"Yes," she started, a strain in her voice, "I remember the plan. You do realize I'm a literal spy, who not only has to remember my orders — but Clint's as well. If I couldn't remember a plan, both Clint and I would be dead." She deadpanned. Tom's eye twitched.

"Yes, of course, yes. It's just I don't quite fancy losing our body."

Raising an eyebrow, she drawled out, "Our body? That's the only thing you'd miss? Not my amazing personality?" She smirked, amused by his concerns. She got where he was coming from, she just found it a bit funny. He rolled his eyes, an irritated look on his face.

"Shut up, Natasha."

Holding up her hands in surrender, she leaned back into her chair. Although, that seemed for nothing because as soon as she got comfortable, her name was called out. Groaning slightly, she stood up from her seat and made sure she had everything she needed.

Of course, while she wasn't allowed to bring in anything other than her wand, that didn't mean she couldn't plant anything. Yesterday, she had come late at night and spray painted some runes around the Stadium. She had also planted a few of her voice bombs... or that's what she at least liked to call them.

They would make noises of her, and whenever the attacker came near, they would explode. Adjusting her black leather catsuit, she checked herself over once more and made her way into the stadium. "And now, we have our final competitor; Natasha Romanoff. Who, in case you didn't know, is the girl who lived!" The announcer cheered, the crowd falling into cheers again. "She's representing... well, I don't know as she didn't dress in Hogwarts colors. But, it doesn't matter, she looks cool either—"

Rolling her eyes, she waved her wand, the runes activating. She watched as the crowd's mouths open—probably letting out a gasp of shock—as they lit up; a bright purple color filling the stadium for a second. Glancing around, she locked her eyes on the dragon, who was pacing around her eggs — a bright gold one sticking out from the white eggs. Waving her wand, she turned on her voice bombs, the dragon immediately turning towards the noise. However, it seemed content to just continue pacing in its spot and snarl at the noise. Groaning quietly,  she moved on to plan b.

Waving her wand, she muttered, "Invisique." Her body turned invisible to everyone around her. Running as quickly, and quietly as she could, she ran behind the dragon, who was standing behind a banner.

Climbing up the fabric, she pointed her wand towards the dragon, muttering, "Ut ligatis."

As if invisible ropes were tied around the dragon, Natasha tightened her hold on her magic, dropping down from the banner and letting down her invisibility spell. Flicking her wand, the dragon flew across the stadium, landing on its back. It roared in anger.

The dragon tried to stand up, but it seemed the ropes around it were too tight for them to move. Walking over to the golden egg calmly, she picked it up and showed it to the crowd.

Waving her wand once more, the runes fell down and loud cheers were heard from all over her. She turned around and watched the dragon tamers run in, trying to calm down the dragon. Pointing her wand towards the dragon, she said, "Ad somnum." the dragon fell down asleep, the tamers giving her a grateful look.

Undoing her spell, she adjusted the egg in her hold and made her way out of the stadium, a satisfied smirk on her face. She just beat a dragon! And didn't even get a cut!

"I'll admit, Romanoff; I was quite impressed," Daphne said, taking a sip from her butterbeer as she leaned back into the common room's couch. "Some of those spells I've never even heard of. Where did you say you went to school again in America?"

Smiling, she said, "Oh, I didn't go to an actual school. I had a personal tutor. He's like my own, personal dictionary." Her lips quirked up into a smirk. Technically, she was telling the truth. Tom taught her everything she knew. Daphne hummed, a curious look on her face. Glancing down at the egg, she gestured to it, "What do you think it is?" She asked, tilting her head to the side -- a curled piece of blonde hair falling in front of her eyes. Natasha looked down at the egg, tracing the engravings. She honestly wasn't sure what the egg was, but considering she does have a talking dictionary in her head -- it shouldn't be too hard to find out.

"Why don't you open it, Natasha?" Blaise asked, sliding over to the girls, and flopping in the middle of them, swinging an arm over their shoulders. "Come on, Principessa! I'm dying to know! You wouldn't reject your hottest's friends' curiosity, would you?"

Smirking, she shared a glance with Daphne. Both of the girls leaned forward, fluttering their eyes at the boy. Leaning up towards his ear, she whispered, "I think that title goes to Daphne." Pulling back, she winked and pulled Daphne forward, kissing her playfully on the nose.

She cackled as she watched his face heat up, his eyes wide open. "What's wrong, Blaise?" Daphne cooed, dragging a hand down his arm, "You look a little red."  The Italian boy gulped, before gaining his composure once more. Giving the two girls a pointed finger, he breathed out, "You are some evil girls."

Natasha shook her head, adjusting the egg that was in her hold. Holding it out in front of her, she turned to her two friends. "Alright, let's open it." Turning back to the egg, she twisted it open. Instead of the sound of angels singing, she was instead rewarded with the sound of tone-deaf pigeons screaming their heads off.

Natasha dropped the egg in shock, covering her ears. What the hell was that!? Gritting, she grabbed the lid quickly and shoved it onto the egg, letting out a sigh of relief as the screaming stopped. Turning towards her friends, she watched as Blaise released Daphne from his tight grip. Raising an eyebrow, she drawled out, "You alright, Blaise?"

He chuckled nervously, trying to put a confident smile on his face, however it looked more like a grimace. "Yeah, yeah...Just... startled me." Nodding slowly, Natasha turned towards Daphne, giving her a concerned look. The blonde nodded and nodded her head towards the egg. "What the bloody hell was that?" Daphne questioned, looking curiously at the egg.

Natasha shrugged, poking the thing with her foot. "I'm not sure..." She muttered, pursing her lips as she tried to figure out what the hell the egg was. Was it some kind of message, in a different language? She thought about asking Tom, but he seemed kinda annoyed right now, and she honestly didn't wanna deal with him right now.

The door to the common room opened, and students came rushing in, walking over to the open seats and flopping down onto them. 

Tom watched as Natasha breathed in and out, a relaxed look on her face. His eyes trailed away from her face and to the pillow that was in his hands. He tightened his grip on the pillow as he stared at the girl in envy. He was Lord Voldemort -- The Dark Lord -- and yet, he can't even do anything by himself.

How pathetic is that? He's tied to a 14-year-old assassin, and can't even go farther than twenty feet from her before he's dragged back to her. There have been days where all he wanted was to kill her; watch as the life drained from her eyes and yet...

He can't kill her. What happened on October 31st changed his life. His soul latched onto her's like a parasite, and as long as she lives -- he will as well. If he tried to kill her, he'd just cease to exist. He would be nothing. However, since his soul latched onto hers', he had regained his sanity and was angered by himself; disgusted even!

His fear of death, and splitting his soul so many times had corrupted his original plan! His plan was to change the wizarding world by bringing back the traditions and taking away muggleborns from muggle families who were disgusted by magic.

He had ruined everything for himself! I mean, really? He was so paranoid that he was going to lose the war, that he went after a 1-year-old? And look where that got him; watching the 1 one year he tried to kill sleep!

He snarled, his nostrils flaring in anger and hate for himself. He was supposed to be the greatest sorcerer in the world, and now... he's just a memory. He dropped the pillow, his hands closing into fists. His eyes trailed over to Natasha's wand, a strong urge to grab the wand and shout the curse that ended it all for him. However, he knew he would never do it. He would never hurt Natasha.

He would never hurt the being hosting his own soul.