You wouldn't believe the day I've had today. Like we're talking one of those hair-ripping, teeth clenching days where you'd rather do nothing else but run feverishly to your dorm and hide under your sheets, wishing the miserable day was over already. But alas, not all of us can indulge in such pleasures, and instead get forced told to find someone to interview for the next issue of SOUP. Being the proud, committed Slytherin I am, I simply had to answer the call Nikky threatened to throw a Fanged Frisbee at me.
So I came up with this brilliant idea to use a Time Turner and go back to interview the notoriously handsome, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Yes, yes; I know! Don't forget to exhale, folks! I don't want you falling unconscious before I have the chance to get to the good part. So after several odd minutes of me drooling at him, I pulled out my quill and parchment, and reluctantly got down to business. I don't know if I'd necessarily say it was a "productive" interview but....you know what, never mind. I'll just let you read it for yourself:
Me: "......" (Still sitting in awe and amazement)
Tom: "Would you mind getting to the point of all this and stop gawking at me like a blithering fool? I do have some rather important things I need to attend to."
Me: (Snaps out of love-struck coma) "Uh..yeah. Sorry about that. Might I ask what those important things might be?"
Tom: (Rolls eyes, and lip curls slightly in annoyance) "No you may not, that's none of your business. I thought you said you wanted to interview me for some column about students who have made influential impacts on Slytherin House?" (It was obvious that he was becoming suspicious, and I felt like a bleeding deer, trying to run away as I'm being preyed upon by a hungry lion.)
Me: (Telling myself, as if listening to a recording loop, to remain calm and keep my voice level. I need to turn the tables; I needed to make him be the nervous one.) "Might it have something to do with the Chamber of Secrets?"
Tom: (Becomes as pale as parchment. He licks his lips, as if trying buy himself some time by distracting me. No worries, it worked. When he finally does answer me, he is quite composed, coming off stone-cold, sending shivers down my spine.) "I have no idea what you're talking about. But I'm afraid we've run out of time. I'm a Prefect after all. I have to go make my rounds and ensure all the first-years are still in their beds." (As gracefully as an angel, but as quick as lightening, he's on his feet, staring at me with an expression that makes me want to dig a hole in the ground and hide in it.) "It was nice chatting with you, Ms.--" (He looks at me, as if to finish his sentence, which I do.)
Me: "Lestrange. Artemisia Lestrange." (I mumble, my voice barely audible.) (With nothing more but a nod, he turns on his heels, and walks off, leaving a bitter cold emptiness in his wake.)
When I got back to my dorm that night, I wrapped myself as tightly as possible within the comforting safety of my blankets, realizing that sometimes, you really don't actually want what you've always wished for. I've always wanted to speak to Tom, but after today, I have a feeling that he will be an entity to haunt my nightmares for many years to come. I feel bad for my future roommates.
Until next time,
-Artemisia