TricksterCrow



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    “I can’t believe I’m giving you advice,” Rowle muttered to himself, running his fingers through his short, sandy blond hair. His blue eyes met the Slytherin Head Boy's stormy gray eyes across the library table that they sat, and a grimace crossed Ravenclaw's face. “Look Riddle, Evans isn’t someone to mess around with. I know he looks nonthreatening, being so short, and thin, like a gust of wind could blow him over; but if you keep fucking with him it’s your funeral.”
    Tom arched an incredulous brow. He looked at seventeen-year-old Theodore Rowle, all six-feet and two inches of him, and compared him to the five-foot-five fifteen-year-old Henry Evans in his mind. The fact that the Ravenclaw was in any way frightened of his small, sylphlike housemate was laughable to him when Theodore was so large and broad-shouldered in comparison. But he was. Noticeably so. Tom didn’t need to use legilimency to see it. “Why are you so afraid of him?” He wondered aloud.
    “Because I’m not stupid,” Rowle scoffed. “We’ve known each other a long time. I know what he’s capable of.”
    Tom leaned forward in his seat, interested. “And praytell, Rowle, just what is Evans capable of?”

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    11 Mar 2023

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