~ Immortality unveiled ~Tom Riddle x Reader ??

*UPDATED Sep. 13th. 2024*


*Eva's POV*


As I drift in and out of consciousness, the world around me blurs, fragmented into hazy images and muffled sounds. The steady hum of magical instruments and the faint murmur of voices blend into a surreal symphony. My body feels weightless, as if floating between reality and some distant dream. A cool sensation touches my forehead, a comforting presence grounding me amidst the swirling chaos of my mind.

"Now leave! All of you! She needs rest. Hush!" A door slams, and the muffled voices recede into silence.

Slowly, like fog lifting from a moor, the haze clears, and the hospital wing comes into focus. The soft glow of enchanted candles flickers gently on the stone walls, casting elongated shadows that dance like wraiths. Madam Pomfrey moves around me with practiced care, her expression a mix of concern and concentration. Her healing magic works swiftly, easing the sharp pain that had once gripped me. Yet, despite her ministrations, a dull ache remains, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness, tethering me to the recent past—the dark corridor, the cloaked figure, and the ominous warning that still echoes in my mind.

Madam Pomfrey's voice breaks through my fog of thoughts, low and soothing. "What happened to you, my dear? Who did this?" Her eyes meet mine, filled with concern, but also a flicker of something more. Fear, perhaps? Or suspicion?

I open my mouth to speak, to tell her about the shadowy figure in the third-floor corridor, but the words catch in my throat. A sharp pain lances through my side, and I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut. "The third floor..." I manage to whisper, but I can't continue.

With a knowing look, Madam Pomfrey nods and begins tending to my wounds with even greater focus, her hands glowing with the warmth of healing magic. Minutes pass in silence, the only sounds being the soft hum of her spells and the occasional crackle from the enchanted candles.

When the worst of the pain subsides, I glance down at the wound, now bandaged and pulsing with magical salves. I breathe a sigh of relief and mutter, "Thank you."

Pomfrey offers a thin-lipped smile, but before she can respond, the door to the hospital wing creaks open. Her eyes narrow. "Dumbledore wishes to see you," she says with a hint of disapproval. "Shall I tell him to wait?"

I sit up slowly, wincing as a sharp pang courses through my shoulder. "No... let him in."

Her expression softens, though a flicker of annoyance remains. She gives a curt nod before turning away to fetch the headmaster.

Moments later, the door swings open once more, and Albus Dumbledore steps inside, his robes billowing slightly behind him. His blue eyes twinkle with concern, though the weight of the world seems to rest upon his shoulders. As he moves closer, I can feel the gravity of his presence—a mixture of wisdom, warmth, and something else. A distant sorrow, perhaps?

"Eva," he says softly, his voice a soothing balm against the lingering echoes of the attack. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I reply, forcing a small smile despite the ache that still gnaws at me. "Thank you for coming."

Dumbledore takes a seat beside the bed, folding his hands in his lap, his expression grave yet compassionate. "I've heard about the attack in the third-floor corridor." He pauses, his gaze heavy with meaning. "Dark forces are moving within these walls, forces we cannot fully understand. We must be vigilant."

I nod, the knot of fear in my stomach tightening at his words. "Who would want to attack me? I... I don't understand."

Dumbledore's eyes grow distant for a moment, as though he's weighing the many possible answers to that question. "There are many enemies, my dear. Some close, some far. The darkness takes many forms, but it's your strength—and your choices—that will determine what happens next."