The Forbidden Ship

A/N warnings: Movie canon usage; NoSex.

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Prompt: Hogwarts

The castle at night was the most impressive thing in his mind. The darkness, the shadows cast by the candle light, the many unidentifiable noises, the whispers in the draft, it fitted him better than the cheerful place it was during the day. This was his birthright, his home, his Hogwarts.

Confidently, he strode through the empty corridors. Nobody would be trespassing tonight. He knew every nook and cranny of this place, every spot one could hide to snog or do more undesirable things, and they all knew Thursday was when HE did his rounds. It was the respect he'd automatically gained from his fellow students. They broke the rules on someone else's watch.

Then again, those who'd dared to cross the path of Tom Marvolo Riddle the wrong way never would do so again. Myrtle could testify to that.

A self-satisfied smirk grew on his handsome face since he knew she couldn't, because he was by far the superior intellect and had not been seen by the silly Ravenclaw.

His eyes fell on the door to the girls' bathroom and he stopped abruptly, raising an eyebrow.

Had he walked here subconsciously?

Sighing in disappointment, he moved on despite that his hand itched to open the door and visit his pet.

Suddenly, a loud crash reached his ears. He swirled around, his wand already in his hand and pointed. Water flowed underneath the door in waves. Frowning, Tom stealthily approached the door, ignoring how his shoes became soaked.

Was something wrong with his Chamber?

His hand fell on the doorknob. Loud coughing and water splashing came from the inside.

Someone was there?!

"Merlin's pants!" a girl's voice shrieked before coughing violently again.

He yanked open the door and stepped into the pool of water. His dark eyes widened at the disaster in front of him. What could only be described as a drenched cat sat on her knees, her arms around her chest as she was bent over, coughing up water. Behind her the sink slowly moved back in place.

That girl had come from inside his property!

He quickly cast the Notice-Me-Not Environmental Charm that he'd invented after the Myrtle disaster. Nobody would disturb him this time.

"Who are you?" he hissed, pointing his wand at her.

When she had the gall to stay coughing instead of answering his almighty being, he swooshed his wand around. The aquamarine jet smashed into her chest, and in one gulf, all excess water poured from her lungs, leaving her breathless for a moment. Then, she slowly regained her normal breathing pattern, raising her head thankfully.

"Thanks," she whispered, looking around in a daze—her hand going through her wet mess of a hair.

That wasn't the only thing that was a mess about her, Tom noted. Her forehead was bleeding. Her right arm had a large gash on it from what clearly had been a nasty Dark Arts curse and she was completely soaked. Her thin shirt didn't leave much up to the imagination anymore as it clung to her body—a nicely endowed body if he had to hand out grades, and Tom Riddle had seen his fair share of nude females.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

She stared at him as if he were an idiot, as if he should somehow KNOW who she was. Her brown eyes flickered over his appearance in confusion.

"I'm - I'm ..." she stopped, staring at him in suspicion. "Who are you?" she asked barely audible, narrowing her eyes.

Annoyed, he pointed to his Head Boy batch. "I'll do the questioning here, Miss," he said with authority.

He noticed her knuckles turning white around her wand. "Riddle," she hissed furiously, "what did your bloody cup do to me?"

"My what?" he started, confused, when his eyes widened and he dove out of the way of the curse hurtling his way, whipping his wand at the insolent female who thought she could duel him.

A gong-like sound echoed through the bathroom, indicating he'd hit squat.

"Diffindo!"

His curse collided with hers, diverting the paths of both. A toilet bowl blew up on his left while wall-tiles blasted around on his right. That little witch knew and used the Arts. He would recognise that purple jet anywhere; he invented that curse two months ago.

"Imperio!" he cast next, watching her roll out of the way like a trained soldier and take cover in one of the booths.

"You can't hide forever, little witch," he said condescendingly, whipping his wand above his head and vanquishing all the booths. Nobody bested Lord Voldemort. Nobody.

"Expelliarmus!"

With a wide arc, Tom Riddle's body flew through the air before he smashed into the sink and collapsed to the ground next. His wand flew through the air, finding a hold in that little witch’s outstretched, triumphant hand.

"Thanks, Harry," she said happily.

Her face was positively smug as she approached him, her wand flashing.

Who was Harry? Tom Riddle thought before the world turned dark around him.

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