Rose & The Riddle || Tom Riddle Story

Chapter Twenty-Six - The Astronomy Tower

**Trigger Warning - This chapter contains themes of depression, death and suicidal thoughts. Please do not read if you are sensitive to that sort of content.**

The bliss Rose experienced briefly at the Black Lake was short lived. The weeks that followed brought stress along with them. The fifth, six and seventh years were studying harder than they ever had, yet Rose could not bring herself to care about her schoolwork. She felt as if she were drowning in a sea of darkness. Her dreams were plagued with the man with the red eyes. Throughout her classes during the days, she remained stoic, to which some professors were growing concerned. One professor in particular.

"Miss Davies, do you mind if I have a quick word with you?" asked Professor Dumbledore after Transfiguration.

Rose pulled herself from her hardened expression and quirked her eyebrows, wondering what the deputy headmaster wanted with her.

As the remaining students filtered out of the classroom, Rose remained unmoved, her eyes fixated out the window, yet she was not looking through the glass. Dumbledore watched her carefully as he noticed a concerning change within one of his most prized pupils. They remained silent for many moments before Dumbledore finally spoke up. He stood a good five feet away from Rose.

"Is there anything troubling you, Miss Davies?"

Rose's eyes remained locked on the window, not giving any indication she had even heard Dumbledore. Dumbledore was about to speak again, to make sure that she heard him, when she turned to him and finally spoke.

"Course not, sir," she replied robotically. It was as if she were under the Imperius Curse and someone was controlling her voice. Dumbledore noted quickly how artificial she sounded. "Why would you think that?"

"My dear, I've noticed a troubling change in your behavior these past few weeks," continued Dumbledore as he casually leaned up against a vacant desk. "You've been disinterested in class, your grades have been slipping and-"

Dumbledore stopped as Rose made eye contact with him, and picked his words carefully before continuing.

"You seemed to have lost your shine."

"My shine, sir?"

"Yes," he replied. "I seem to recall a rather radiant student who stepped into my classroom six years ago, eager to learn, excited to jump into conversation... but now that girl seems distant, disassociated and simply uninterested."

Rose looked back at the window and focused her attention on a speck of dust that was settling on the windowsill.

"Miss Davies, I don't pretend to be an expert on the human psyche, however I'd like to believe I know my students well. So I'll ask you again... is there anything troubling you?"

Rose knew Dumbledore was no fool. She had felt the change within herself, but how was she possibly supposed to explain them to her teacher? How could sit here and tell Dumbledore that she was feeling helpless, hopeless, and unfulfilled. She did not want to appear damaged, and she certainly did not want to sit here and discuss her feelings with Albus Dumbledore, but on the flip side – she had no one else to talk to.

She couldn't discuss it with her friends. They wouldn't understand. Neither would her parents, nor would she even explain the seriousness of the situation to him. And Tom was certainly out of the question. He was the root of the problem, and she knew that. But Tom would make her feel like the problem was her own love and her feelings, and she did not want to hear the same speech from him. Perhaps opening up to Dumbledore could do her some good.