Chapter Text
“Pass the cinnamon, please!”
Riddle scoops up the shaker from the bottom, offering it to his underclassman– it was that time of the morning before classes, and students could use the time to their advantage to sleep in, finish homework or gossip about everything and nothing at all, like he was doing now.
The heart soldier pauses for only a moment, then takes the shaker from the bottom as well, thanking him– Queen of Hearts Rule Eight: When passing spices across a table without a tablecloth, one must pick up the container from the bottom.
“Ooh! Have you guys heard?” Cater holds his hand in front of his mouth full of pumpkin muffin. “Did you hear our schedule changed? We’re having some sort of special event today.”
Riddle frowns. “I haven’t heard of that, no.”
Cater kicks back, scrolling on his phone with one hand. “Some of the paintings were chattering about Crowley and Trein getting all hush-hush about something, and two weeks ago, a bunch of treasure washed ashore~”
Now that he thought about it, The Headmage did set up a housewaden’s meeting a week early– something about acquiring permissions. He had been very teary-eyed and excited, and Riddle ended up entertaining a game of ‘I Spy’ with his fellow second year housewardens.
He drains what’s left of his tea, the remains of the tea leaves clinging to the lip of his cup.
His thoughts continue to revolve around the topic while he makes his way down main street. It seems like the news has gone around, as well– everyone he passes is buzzing with gossip; from the Headmage found a lost family member, to treasures belonging to the Great Seven are in their custody, or a cursed artifact was discovered that could cause agony when used.
He stops at the statue of the Queen of Hearts. He, like everyone, hoped it had to do with their dormitory. Or it was an event they could crush competition with. They’d most likely be walking into the assembly hall instead of their first periods…
Would they be sorted by year, as usual? Or would they be sorted by class– or even like Beanfest?
He frowns, realizing he’s getting carried away. There were only rumors, after all.
“Riddle! What a pleasant surprise to see you here!”
He turns around to see Azul right behind him, hand to his heart as usual. After the events of STYX and descending Tartarus, proudly proclaiming themselves as friends, Azul has made a habit of seeking him out for no reason at all. He’d grown accustomed to it by now, even greeting Azul warmly. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Surprise? Are you sure you weren’t expecting to find me here?”
The taller teen stands beside him with his hands behind his back, playing dumb. “Not at all. I was simply on my way to class… twenty minutes early… and like everyone else, had to pass through main street to see you lingering on the path.”
“I see.” Riddle hums. “Then have you heard of the rumors?”
“Of course I have! Some of them seem rather outlandish, sure– but I think the joint classes are the most plausible. I regret not paying attention to the Headmage better, but his whining and sobbing...”
“You think it’s something as mundane as joint classes?”
Azul shrugs. “The Headmage has a flair for the dramatics.”
Riddle ponders for a while longer, until he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He looks up and around to see Jade and Floyd following Jamil. He squeaks, fleeing to hide behind Azul only for his sudden movement to catch Floyd’s eye.
Floyd, the nuisance that he is, drags Jamil with him to meet Riddle and Azul. The air is sharp with distaste as they greet each other.
“What do you think of the rumors?” Riddle asks Jamil, safely hidden behind Azul to avoid Floyd.
“I haven’t paid attention to them much. I’d be interested if we’re reviewing something from a different country…” Jamil replies, tense and hidden behind Floyd to avoid Azul.
“So you believe in the rumors that the school has something in its possession?” Azul tilts his body just enough to peek at Jamil, leaving Riddle in view of Floyd. Floyd suddenly meets Riddle’s eyes, moving slowly, slowly…
Riddle shrieks just as the tall eel makes aggressive grabby hands at him, prompting him to cackle uncontrollably.
“Goldfishie~ is that your defense tactic?”
“Grr..” Riddle’s face burns. If Floyd could only be normal for once– at least he didn’t touch him this time. A flash of pale hair catches the corner of his eye, and he quickly reorients himself in time to greet another second year.
“Good Morning,” Silver murmurs. He holds a thermos in his hands decorated with dozens of little stickers, his eyes bright despite the usual lack of expression. “It’s not often so many of us are together like this.”
“Good Morning, Silver.”
Floyd abandons Jamil in favor of leaning over Silver’s thermos, audibly sniffling with a frown. “That’s, like, the strongest smelling coffee I’ve ever smelled, Jellyfish. You could make a dessert outta that…”
“Hm? It must be because I've been using this thermos for years.”
Riddle begins to tune out the conversation, returning to the inscription of the Queen of Hearts. Something about Kalim not wanting to get up this morning and Jamil not caring enough to push further. Ruggie joins the conversation and butts in with his opinion, a collective shiver going down all their spines at the mention of mushrooms.
All in all, it’s a nice morning.
The bell does not toll like usual that morning. Instead, the Headmage himself descends in front of the doors with his usual shower of feathers. He grins, deathly pale fae pallor enchanting to those who do not have to deal with him on a regular basis, and bows.
“Good morning, my students!” His voice booms. “Today, we will operate on a special schedule! Third years will follow the bells to the history hall, and the younger years will the next bell– forget about your regular history classes and proceed onto the next! Isn’t this exciting?”
“Huh? How’s lunch gonna work?” Ruggie pouts. No one pays attention.
“He still hasn’t said a thing about what we’re actually doing! I must get Trey to inform me!”
“Nghh, you’re such a nerd, goldfishie~”
Riddle huffs. He has no time to deal with Floyd’s provocations, like the way he fell for his grabby hands– he stalks away. Noisy footsteps follow, and Riddle turns his head to see Floyd following. He decides to break into a run, only hoping he can lose him in the entrance.
The bad thing about classes joined by year is that he had to be placed with disruptive people such as Floyd.
Well, Floyd isn’t the only thing that prevents him from focusing. He needs to know what the Third Years are doing!
His leg jitters uncontrollably as he watches the ingredients for their numbing elixir they’re to make infuse in the cauldron– the difficulty has been altered to make up for their extended class time. Usually, one would have to have their medical mage license to craft such a potion, but under their professor’s guidance, it was legal.
Once they’ve been steeped, there’s nothing stopping him from completing the potion as fast as possible. As if it could speed up time, he fishes out the leaves and petals from the water and adds everything else lined up on his table.
All he needs is enough to fill the ounce flask and shake it until it turns pink. Not one stray thought, else the mixture could have impurities.
“Professor?” Riddle calls over Professor Crewel, who was bent over one student’s desk. He takes the flask and holds it to the light with a scrutinizing eye,
“Good work, puppy.” Professor Crewel says. “Not everyone can perform without doubts.”
Riddle nods eagerly, immediately getting to work with clearing his table. He’ll wash all the containers and measure cups and utensils first, by hand– and then he’ll use an automatic cleaning spell for the cauldron…
“You’re excited for your history period, aren’t you?”
“I’m well-versed in medical knowledge and magic-related medical knowledge, Professor. Perhaps I’m a little eager…”
It’s Crewel’s turn to nod his head. His attention is diverted to a student fumbling with a crumbling leaf.
“Bad boy! Those aren’t even the right leaves!”
He finishes cleaning up in record time with more than twenty minutes left. He jiggles his leg again, hoping for something to do. Maybe he can review something in his notebook..?
Or perhaps…
Carefully, as if it was forbidden, he pulls his phone out from his bag. Other students, of course, can be rather blatant with their phone use during class time, but not Riddle. He’s dabbled in Magicam when he’s had spare time, but he doubted he could spend over twenty minutes looking at hedgehogs and pretty snacks and gardening tips.
Ah, in his notifications is Cater. He hums under his breath while inputting his password to review the message, only to see a flurry of images. Most of them have Cater in the corner, but the main focus was the delicate baubles in the background. Colorful, with rounded edges on a black backdrop, they grew too pixelated when Riddle tried to zoom in for details. A sound that can only be described as a squeal escapes him.
Riddle Rosehearts: What are you doing?
Cater Diamond: 😉
He grits his teeth. If that’s how Cater was going to play, he has Trey. Trey can fold. Trey will fold, all he has to do is message him. He sends at least a dozen messages, urging his friend to respond.
Trey: 😉
He’s going to scream.
Of course Cater would get to Trey’s phone first! He sends more messages, demanding a response. He’s no sleuth, but perhaps he can get someone else– that’s right. He’s in the middle of drafting a text to Azul when the bell rings.
On his way out, he bumps into Kalim on the way in. His headscarf is askew, and his cardigan tossed on. He’s missing many of his golden bracelets.
“KALIM! Wait– have you just woken up!?”
He tilts his head childishly, having the merit to look at least a little guilty. “Uhhh. Maybe?”
Riddle pouts, eye twitching. “That headscarf is absolutely unacceptable! You’re a housewarden, Kalim.”
The young heir smiles, breezing past Riddle without a care. “Jamil taught me how to tie it– I just can’t remember if the loop was left or right… or was there a loop in the first place?”
Riddle has to speedwalk to catch up. “A– are you listening to me? You’re not even going to fix it!?”
“Haha! I’ll fix it when I get to class, don’t wor.. ry..?”
Kalim stops right in front of the door, and Riddle has to peek past his shoulder– he can barely see, this is ridiculous! “Kalim…” Queen have mercy on him, he’s reaching his limit. And he’s been very good with keeping his temper lately!
He pushes Kalim slightly, making him stumble. For a moment, his garnet eyes were blank– and then he smiles, shuffling out of the way to reveal the rest of the room while rubbing his arms. “Oh, sorry. The room just felt.. funny?”
Riddle doesn’t pay much attention to Kalim, attracted to the tables lined at the front of the class and the stack of papers by Professor Trein. On black fabric, the baubles and treasures are visibly worn by time, mostly glass and metal finery. It smells of salt and iron.
Someone clears their throat behind them. An Octavinelle student with wavy purple hair covering their eyes.
Moving further into the classroom and abandoning Kalim, he can see more things on display; an entire dress, ruffles and ruffles on the sleeve and skirt attached by secure stitches even after all this time, various pieces of headwear, flat slippers.
Jade sidles up to him from behind, eyes gleaming with a similar interest. “This was not what I was expecting. You can tell many of these have been in the sea for a while.”
“So the rumors are true? The ones about treasure washing ashore on Sage Island?”
Jade settles on a desk in the front row, Riddle finding it suitable to sit beside him. “I’d assume so. Why is it in our possession, I wonder?”
“It appears that my prediction was wrong, hm?”
In the seat behind him is Azul. He leans forward, his cheek in his hand. Riddle nods… then realizes if Jade was here, and Azul was here, then…
A hand slaps down on the desk beside Azul’s, occupied by a mouse beastman with a spade on his eye. All it takes is Floyd to lean over him, and the beastman is gone. Riddle clicks his tongue.
“Floyd, I request you don’t threaten my card soldiers in my presence.”
Floyd leans back on his chair, grinning lazily. Azul smiles and leans back as well, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I would also appreciate it if you behaved just a bit more considerably today, Floyd. I am quite interested in what we will be doing with these artifacts, myself.”
Floyd’s face scrunches up in distaste. “Blehh…”
They all fall silent when the Headmage swoops in. He bows beside Professor Trein with a small ‘Attention Please!!'
“As you can see, right in front of you are very valuable, historical artifacts, my dear pupils. These are the very treasures that have risen ashore only a fortnight ago, and I, your esteemed Headmage, found it an excellent opportunity to begin a new lesson unit!”
The Headmage clears his throat and hops towards the other end of the table. “These are borrowed from the museum in the Queendom of Roses, the sister country of what used to be the Kingdom of Ashes.”
There it is– what an exciting topic! But…
Riddle raises his hand. “What about our previous lesson unit? We were to have an exam next week.”
Professor Trein is the one to respond to his question. “The regular lessons will resume after the unit, Rosehearts.”
“If you have been properly taking your notes, you shouldn’t have a problem with your exam!” The Headmage crows. “But that is the introduction to the items, please respect them– especially the lended ones. Toodle-loo!”
With that, he disappears out the window in a flurry of feathers, the wind knocking the stack of papers into the air. Instead of fluttering to the ground uselessly, they linger in the air before zooming to land in front of every student or back into a stack.
The Kingdom of Ashes, while nothing but a piece of history now, remains known for its famous story of The Princess with the Glass Shoe and its leftover impact on the Queendom of Roses. Many of the clothing they wore, shoes, especially formal wear with their nonsensical layers and decorations and finery were products from the Queendom taking in those fleeing their home with open arms.
He learned of it in middle school, and personally dove deeper into the research in his personal time, it was incredibly fascinating! So much of their crafts and history, but they still lacked the names of the monarchy at the time; they died early on, leading to other kingdoms moving in on their territory without a care for civilians.
“In orderly and respectful fashion, make your way down to the table and choose five treasures, one at a time. Next week, you will write a report on a treasure of your choice, further instruction is on your worksheets.”
Multiple seats simultaneously screech against the floor. He’ll do one of the bigger pieces last. He admires the lines of shiny, nearly unaffected baubles. For things that have been under the tumultuous waves of the sea, they still have every little detail imaginable.
As he’s about to grab a glittering blue-green circlet, his foot bumps into something soft and he hears an angry yowl. Under his foot, tail lashing, is Trein’s familiar, Lucius.
Riddle’s never seen the cat so distressed before, with his tail fluffed and his ears drawn back. He spits at Riddle, and all he feels is pity; the hubbub must be too much for him, even when he’s been Trein’s familiar for years.
Carefully, he tries to scoop up the cat the best he can with its hostility, cradling it awkwardly the way he’s seen him do it. He realizes Lucius is… very pampered. And heavier than he expected. The critter squirms, giving him a faceful of long fur.
He drops Lucius gently in a mostly unoccupied corner. The price he pays for getting the cat out of the way is that he can’t find a way past everyone else. Curse his short stature!
He tries to dive in only to be hip-checked and bumped into someone else, grunting an apology. A strong, gentle hand studies his body, one he recognizes to be Silver.
In his other hand is a string of small, clear beads, and beside him is Jade, holding a larger string of glass beads with both hands. He moves silently to block the bodies on Riddle’s other side. He thanks them both silently.
“And those?” Riddle asks with an owlish tilt of his head. Both hold up their respective baubles.
“I thought they were necklaces at first, but they don’t have any fasteners.”
“They remind me of the morning dew drops I see some of the smaller fairies wear sometimes. On their waists and hair.”
He hums, a theory on his lips, but he sees a familiar hand reach past them and take a silver piece, one of the only pieces with a gemstone in them.
Ruggie slinks past, the object in his pocket. Just how many of those did he take in the short time they’ve all been here? Riddle excuses himself with Silver and Jade, following the hyena student.
Once again, he’s bumped by someone pulling out of the fray. He grunts in frustration– and then it’s gone. The always-present heat of irritation in his chest, washed away like debris pulled in by the tide.
He exhales, the murmurs and whispers of student gossip reduced nothing but the sound of rain falling outside his bedroom window, water gently running through a canal. Slowly, he turns around, his slate eyes landing on a single ring.
It’s a terribly simple thing, the ring. Bronze and silvery with a slim vein of clear crystal fused into it, cracked in several places. Beat up by the currents of the sea and designed for slender, small fingers… like his.
It’d fit his finger perfectly; he just knows it. It sings and tells him so.
Before he even realizes it, the ring is in between his fingers, feeling the smooth metal and crystal. It disappears into the side pocket of his blazer.
The moment it leaves his hand, he gasps. It’s like the air’s been punched out of him, the muted sounds of other individuals surging back in and the very fact that he just stole something! Deuce once described the evil rush of taking something that didn’t belong to oneself, from school supplies and people’s personal belongings to cheap booze.
All he feels is guilt, shame. But he can’t return it because… because..!
He can’t, he just can’t. He doesn’t want to! Something is preventing him from doing the simple action of taking the ring out from his pocket and putting it back where it belongs.
He steps away from the line, this time not bumping into anyone. He picks a different part of the line and grabs a downright gorgeous crystal cup that’s been dyed red, a careful swirling pattern throughout the base. He steps back with the cup in his hands and heads straight to his desk, getting to work.
The sound of people fades back into the background with the thrum of the ring in his pocket. It burns at his waist, but something about it also soothes that burn, like cold water over said burn.
For someone with so much medical knowledge, it is quite curious he’s forgotten that one shouldn’t use cold water for a burn.
The bell for lunch tunes him back into the world, on his third treasure. Everyone excuses themselves, eager to eat while he lingers a little while longer– he just has to finish this last sentence.
On his way to return the wand-shaped treasure that looks like the wands used in their Wish Upon a Star ceremonies, he bumps into Lucius again. The cat spits again, earning a scolding from his owner.
“Lucius, what’s gotten into you today?”
The cat responds by yowling. Riddle doesn’t stay to hear it, as felines are not the branch of Animal Languages he’s chosen to pursue.
He makes a detour to the bathroom to wash his hands. It’s relatively empty. Hopefully it’s just that Riddle’s late, and not that the majority of the population of teenage boys didn’t see fit to wash their hands before lunch, and worse, touching old objects that multiple other people have touched.
He’s seen the five– now six– year old survey. Savanaclaw students, followed by Pomefiore and Octavinelle are the dormitories with the cleanest individuals. If they redid it now, Riddle would make sure they’d end up before Pomefiore, at least. Savanaclaw had the advantage of being composed primarily of beastmen with sensitive noses who often got visibly dirty on the regular, leading them to wash more often.
Scratch that, Riddle would make sure they would beat Savanaclaw in cleanliness, too.
Drying his hands not too far from Riddle is the mouse beastman from before. He remembers their name now; it was Corwin.
Corwin slowly turns his head to stare at Riddle. There’s an undercurrent of realization and shame on his face, round chocolate ears flattening. He’s out faster than Riddle’s unique magic.
Something in Riddle’s chest is pulled as Corwin walks away, something at his waist, in his pocket.
Surely not..?
Forcibly shrugging off the incident, he hurries to get his food and sits at his usual spot with a flurry of fellow Heartslabyul students, squeezing beside Cater.
“Cater, I wish I could thank you for the image, but I don’t appreciate the sabotage.”
His upperclassman laughs. “What? Meeee? What did I do?”
“I don’t get it,” Ace introjects. "It’s just a bunch of stuff. They don’t even have, like, diamonds in them or anything.”
The air changes. Cater sucks in air through his teeth, and Riddle’s eyebrows knit together, preparing for an impromptu history lesson.
“‘Just things’, Ace? You’re from the Queendom! Your roots are deeply entwined with the Kingdom of Ashes, you could be of their very descent!”
Ace lifts his hands up in an 'I surrender' motion, eyes wide. “Right, right! Can’t argue with that. I learned all about it during middle school, though… so Cater’s the only one here that’s not from the Queendom? He’s the only one not related to those crazy dress guys?”
Cater’s shakes his head with a mouthful of food quickly. "Mm!"
“You’d be incorrect, as Cater is still of Shaftian origin. The Shaftlands are already a vast mix of cultures, and the Shaftlands was easier to flee to, since one didn't have to tread water.” Riddle says. Then he starts getting carried away. “While the ships the refugees boarded were designed for cargo and not human transportation, they were acclimated the best possible for the situation. It’s unknown how the Queen of Hearts caught wind or how the Queendom of Roses got ahold of so many intact artifacts, but there were at least five members of the royal family with the queen and king as the only ones officially dead–”
Cater nudged Riddle with an elbow, and Ace sighs obnoxiously, prompting Riddle to stop and pout. “You need to refresher on your history! Do you sleep in Trein’s class all day?”
He sighs, bright with admiration. “The Queen of Hearts is a wonderful figure, is she not?”
“Uh huh.”
Octavinelle– as in, Azul and company, breeze by with their empty plates. Azul in particular greets Riddle, and in return, he smiles brightly and greets Azul with the same enthusiasm.
Ace fake gags. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Lighten up, Ace,” Cater says, a stupid, Che’nya-like grin on his face. “Riddle’s only a year older than you, y’know? It’s good for him to do normal teenage things, like being a simp~”
“Simp?” Riddle asks aggressively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You can connect the dots.”
He hunches over, thinking hard. Could ‘simp’ be short for something? Simp… simpleton? Simpering? He pouts, his cheeks puffing out.
Cater begins to hum a ticking clock tune for guessing games, irritating the short little redhead further. In a fit, he begins to pummel Cater with his fists, one cand connecting with his breast pocket. There’s something in there besides his magepen.
They both freeze, the same pull, the same thrumming melody that his own stolen ring has.
Everything slows. The melody, the thrum, it comes from multiple directions in the cafeteria. The pull from his waist to Cater’s chest…
They’re still staring at each other. He and Cater.
He rapidly hits Cater again before crossing his arms and turning the other way. “Ace! I hope you pay attention when it’s your turn! Don’t forget about New Wunder!”
Trey suddenly butts in, ever a kind smile on his face. A note of unease at its edges, perhaps. “You know, most of the Kingdom was magicless. Magic was less documented back then, but their royal lineage didn’t have it.”
Cater hums, chin on hands. “They say they always had a ‘look’ to them! Pretty ‘clear’ eyes, which meant blue or gray, like Rids here. Pale or blonde hair, sometimes brown. They were probably goooregous~!”
“Uh-huh. And then us Queendom folk are all gingers and redheads with ‘bright’ eyes.”
“Hey! Black hair, too!”
His food is growing cold! He doesn’t have much of an appetite, but he eats as fast as he can.
For the rest of his time in class, observing the dress as close as he can. There’s also a bonnet designed for a baby, a headband with lace. He can spot the similarities with modern wily dresses that the Queendom has, sewn by hand and heart.
The ring practically has a heartbeat in his pocket. Buzzing, burning. The guilt is mouthing into something almost tangible, and this time he hurries out and heads for his next class. It’s over in a blur, and he’s in Heartslabyul not soon after.
He thinks he bumped into Corwin again, only to see a different spade soldier. Deuce looks as guilty as Riddle feels. The headstrong underclassman excuses himself quickly and he disappears faster than Riddle can get a word out.
He should say something. Reprimand Deuce for daring to take something, especially with his goal of being an Honors Student. But he can’t, his mouth runs dry for words.
Heartslabyul is a net. A spider’s web, every movement sending a vibration through him.
How has no one noticed the number of baubles missing?
Trey gently taps on his shoulder, offering their usual tea. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat; he could tell Trey, he could… but that would betray the ring.
Betray the ring, what a ridiculous notion!
“I would like to retire to my room early today, thank you.” He says instead.
Trey nods, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “I’ll bring it to your room then.”
He thanks his friend and does so. The lights in his bedroom stay off, the only light coming from his window. With utmost care, he sheds his blazer and sets it on the back of his chair, then, with less care, he drops his vest.
Trey comes in with the tea and sets it on the edge of his desk, then disappears, just like that.
Riddle changes into his pajamas early. Dipping a hand into his blazer pocket, he finally pulls out the ring since he stole it.
It’s a poor, beat up thing. It fits on his finger perfectly. Warm, evoking a feeling he’s never experienced, memories, a song, faces.
He barely remembers to hastily gulp down his tea before crawling into bed. He pulls the curtains closed, then the covers over himself. Sleep takes him quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, the distant chiming of a bell being the last thing he hears.
“Oh, that clock! Old killjoy– I hear you; ‘c’mon, get up!’, you say!”
“...Even he orders me around.”
✧
Thump!
Ace shifts, turning away from the source of the sound.
Thunk!
He groans. Unlike most of Heartslabyul, who went to bed early, Ace went to sleep at the usual time. Really, that stuff wasn’t so exciting beyond the fact that it was probably really valuable.
Bump!
One of his roommates grumble. His sleepy brain slowly recognizes it as Deuce, mumbling under his breath, and he’s probably the source of the constant thumping. Drawers opening and slamming closed, rustling fabric.
“I’m late… I can’t believe I’m late..!”
Finally, Deuce shuffles out and slams the door closed. It wasn’t the first time Deuce has snuck out late at night, but even he’s been quieter than that.
He settles into his pillow– it’s the perfect temperature, the blanket nice and fluffy.
And then the memory of Deuce grinding his teeth and disappearing Halloween night has to go and ruin it all. Ice runs through his veins and he shoves the blanket off, sitting up.
“Hey… hey guys?”
Their other two roommates groan in irritation. At least they’re not gone.
“Can you pipe it down?”
“Didn’t Deu… Deuc… jus’ leave? Go back to… sleeep.”
Ace rubs his arms, soothing his goosebumps. “This isn’t right.” Light on his feet, he steps out of bed and pats Deuce’s ruffled bed. It’s too dark to properly inspect Deuce’s side of the room, even with his eyes adjusted to the dark.
He turns on the rose lamp. His roommates moan in agony, and his own eyes sting and water from the light now bathing the room.
The closet is wide open, drawers messy and half-closed the way the spade soldier usually leaves it when he’s late for class. The blanket is gone and shining beside his pillow is his phone and magepen. Deuce wouldn’t leave his phone or his magepen.
Was his voice different? He couldn’t remember if your voice changed when you were possessed…
He barely remembers to shut off the lamp when his roommates scream at him to do so, making a beeline for the third year rooms. If it’s like halloween, then he has to check Cater’s room first. Even while in his own hall, he can see that there are multiple doors open. It’s probably the same for the third year halls–
He stops at the stairwell, staring at one more loopy story. Instead of going to Cater, he climbs higher, legs burning– how does Riddle do this trek every day? In high heels? Slowly, he approaches the housewarden’s door.
When he tries to knock, his hand pushes the door wide open. It was unlocked, empty.
The bed? Empty, too. No blankets.
The housewarden of Hearslabyul is gone.