Riddle's ghostly form, hovering above Hufflepuff's golden cup, suddenly jolted. The silvery mist that shaped his body shimmered, flickering rapidly at first, then slowing, like someone drowning who'd just broken through the water's surface, crashing back into reality.
In the quiet of the late-night hotel room, not far from the cup, a young snake named Yorm coiled, tilting its head to study Riddle's flickering form with curiosity. Nearby, the young professor watched, his eyes glinting with intrigued scrutiny.
Riddle's expression darkened, shifting uneasily. In the remnants of his soul, memories of Wool's Orphanage lingered like faint shadows—those Muggle kids who called him a freak, their taunts and jeers still echoing in his ears.
"What did you do to me?" he demanded.
"Did I do anything?"
Melvin spread his hands, gesturing toward his untouched wand. "I was just asking about Inferi and Obscurials when you started acting... odd. Hufflepuff's cup holds powerful magic, and Horcruxes, well, they're dark magic crafted by Herpo the Foul. Maybe the two forces clashed and affected you. From where I'm standing, you didn't even answer me—you just floated there, dazed, not even noticing Yorm slithering closer."
"Did I say or do anything strange?" Riddle asked.
"Nope. You just hovered, looking a bit out of it, like a student zoning out in class."
Riddle's mind churned with unease as he glared down at the young professor, his brows knitting tightly.
What were those strange visions? Was it a clash between the cup's magic and the Horcrux, stirring up old memories in his fractured soul? Or had Melvin used some spell, something like Legilimency, slipping into his mind while he was distracted and dragging up buried memories?
With no answers, frustration gnawed at him. This ghostly form couldn't cast spells, couldn't interrogate Melvin, couldn't even inspect the Horcrux's condition. Riddle loathed this helplessness, this insubstantial existence as a mere fragment of a soul.
He shot Melvin a piercing look before his form dissolved into the air, his consciousness retreating into the cup.
"Hiss…"
Yorm lifted its head, tongue flickering, its snake eyes glinting with almost human-like confusion.
"Don't look at me like that," Melvin said, chuckling. "I didn't spook him. His own memories did that."
Melvin's eyes softened as he gently stroked the scales on Yorm's head. "An Obscurial's soul carries such deep despair, it changes the nature of their magic. It seems to pull out the darkest memories from someone's heart."
Through Riddle's perspective, he'd caught fleeting glimpses of scenes—nothing clear, just fragments.
Yorm, unsure if it understood, flicked its forked tongue and nuzzled Melvin's fingertip.
"Hiss…"
"Yeah, Obscurials are fascinating magical creatures," Melvin murmured, half to himself as he played with the snake. "But they don't usually live long. I wonder how long Bastian will last. Her magic's transformed, so here's hoping she grows up strong and healthy."
…
By evening, the Granger family returned to their hotel after a day of exploring.
The July sunset painted the sky in vibrant oranges and reds, clouds glowing like fire. The four of them leaned against the balcony railing, soaking in the view. Hermione and Bastian's eyes sparkled, their faces tinged pink by the fading light.
As the sun dipped lower, Mrs. Granger, the family's unofficial leader, set up the dining table on the suite's terrace, laying out takeout from their day in the city. It was a unique dinner, full of charm.
Bastian stared at the spread of food, and Hermione glanced over. "Why're you just standing there? Not hungry? Did we wear you out running around all day?"
"It's you two who dragged her everywhere," Mrs. Granger said, exasperated. "This shop, that sight—poor Bastian's not even seven yet!"
Hermione and her dad exchanged sheepish grins, admitting they'd gotten carried away with the fun.
"I'm fine," Bastian said, eyeing the food with a wistful sigh. "I think my body's recovered enough that I don't need as much food to recharge. Plus, I ate so much while we were out, I'm just not hungry now." Her slightly dramatic regret made the others smile.
As the sun sank into the Seine, dinner wrapped up with laughter and chatter.
The Grangers kept Bastian involved, chatting with her throughout the meal. The dentist couple even checked her temperature to make sure she was okay, confirming it was just a lack of appetite, nothing serious.
Since the little girl seemed tired, they skipped evening plans. The family washed up early and headed to their rooms in the spacious hotel suite—pricey, but worth it for the extra space. Ever since the museum incident, Hermione, acting like Bastian's big sister, insisted on keeping an eye on her. For the past few nights, they'd shared a room.
"I'm really okay…" Bastian mumbled, a bit flustered, as Hermione dragged her pillow and blanket over to sleep beside her. "I'm just tired and didn't feel like eating."
"Sometimes people don't realize when something's wrong with them," Hermione said, fluffing her pillow and taming her wild hair. Growing up with dentist parents, she'd picked up some medical know-how. "Not being hungry could mean heatstroke or something. Your temperature's fine, but what if you feel off later tonight?"
"…"
A warm feeling washed over Bastian, like the Seine's gentle current. Since her mother died in that icy, thawing season, no one had cared about her health. The people in New Salem treated her like a slave.
"Life now feels like a dream," Bastian said softly, staring at the ceiling. "I've never had so much happiness or sweetness in my life. All the candy and steak these past few days… even if I died right now, I'd be okay with it."
"Don't say that!" Hermione pinched her nose gently. "There's tons more candy and fun waiting for you. When you turn eleven, I'll talk to Professor Dumbledore. Maybe you can even go to Hogwarts!"
"Hogwarts…" Bastian tilted her head slightly.
"It's the best wizarding school in the world, with the best professors," Hermione said, her voice speeding up with excitement. "Remember Professor Lewent from the other day?"
She caught herself, realizing she sounded a bit like Lavender Brown, who'd ramble late into the night during dormitory chats about cute boys, tough professors, or Lewent's quirky fashion sense. Clearing her throat, she added more calmly, "He teaches Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. I'll take his class next year."
"That professor…" Bastian shrank back, remembering the fierce, destructive flames from that day. "He seemed kinda scary."
"Professor Lewent's really nice, just… intense sometimes," Hermione said carefully. "He can come off as mysterious or odd, but once you get to know him, he's kind and gentle."
"Oh…" Bastian hesitated, finding it hard to picture "kind and gentle" for that professor.
"Let's get some sleep," Hermione said. "Tomorrow we're hitting Disneyland Paris. The pirate ship ride's gonna be awesome!"
"Mm," Bastian replied softly, her voice tired but content.
---