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Chapter 1 : White Dove
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She watched him from a distance, as to not seem rude. Or like a stalker. Although he was to always be surrounded by a group of thugs, his friends probably, he seemed to generally keep to himself, not taking part in any of the conversation. Maybe he usually wasn’t such a loner, but she wouldn’t know.
Isabelle had just transferred from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts yesterday for her final year. Mum and Dad said she’d be better off here, but she wasn’t so sure. It was a nice school, but she was never the best at making friends. Especially since she was the new girl. The freak with a heavy French accent.
Starting off at this new school was probably the worst thing. The time when the first years were sorted into a particular house; Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff. Despite being a sixth year, she was just as new to this school as the first years. Maybe even newer.
“Bellerose, Isabelle Ines,” the professor called.
She sat on the stool and the Sorting Hat was placed on her head of short, curly brown hair. It was petrifying. The older students seated in the Great Hall were laughing at her. Those imbeciles. Of course, she was the fucking giant in a crowd of midgets.
She remembered the hat. It talked straight into her head, as it made the decision.
“Hmm… Pure-Blood, very pure, yes,” it said, then after mumbling something about a harsh attitude, it yelled, “SLYTHERIN!”
Once she forced herself to take her blue eyes off of this boy, she realized that it was very late. Almost midnight. Had she really been so intrigued with a boy she did not know anything about? After giving him one last glance, Isabelle hurriedly walked to the girl’s dormitory and fell asleep in her green four-poster bed.
Did she really think he couldn’t see her staring? Was she that naïve?
Then he realized that she was that naïve. She was the new girl that every damn student at this school was gossiping about. Isabelle. Isabelle Bellerose. The girl who blew everyone away in only her first day. She was bright. Very bright. She could produce a full patronus in Defense Against the Dark Arts class (taking form as a delicate white dove), brew Felix Felicis perfectly in potions, and charm a dying rose back to perfect health in transfiguration.
But Tom hadn’t heard many guys talking about her excellence in class. They, even his “friends” were constantly going on about her looks. They said she was stunning. Even some of the nastier students would talk, in full detail, about what they wanted to do to her.
Tom Riddle got to thinking of her. Isabelle was pretty, but she wasn’t normal pretty. Her look was exotic. Her hair was short and curly, and looked as if she didn’t fuss over making it look good. Her eyes glowed with a shade of blue that reminded Tom of the water in a tropical ocean. She looked effortless. That’s why she was beautiful. Effortless and exotic.
To Tom, it was nothing to make this much of a commotion over. She was just another pawn on the chess board of life; like every other student in the school he loved so much.
But he would be watching her. That, he decided.
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