I can ask Dumbledore if you like, he penned, the smirk tilting his lips at odds with the seemingly innocent words. He knows loads of magic.
Riddle’s response appeared quickly, slightly crooked in its haste.
No, he wrote. There’s no need to disturb a professor with this. I’m certain your assistance will be more than enough.
Harry chuckled lightly, pushing a hand to his lips in surprise at the sound. He knew he shouldn’t be playing with Riddle like this, but the opportunity was simply too good to resist. Besides, winding him up when he was in such a helpless state appealed to something in Harry, something made helpless and powerless by the man this boy would one day become.
The diary couldn't possess him, he reasoned. What was the worst that could happen?
The worst that could happen, Harry discovered, was becoming attached. Tom was clever and rude and charming all at once. And while his snide remarks were hardly noticable if you weren’t paying very close attention, Harry had practice telling when he was being mocked. He had grown up with the Dursley’s, after all.
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from the prompt list - time travel 💫😌 please
Clarke slams into the ground so hard her teeth rattle. Every muscle aching with effort, she manages to fling out a shaking arm to hinge herself onto her back, teeny rocks biting into her palm with sharp edges as she flops down again, arms screaming.
With another desperate burst of energy she manages to curl her fingers around the knife that is digging a razor tip into just above her knee, bringing it to clasp over her chest as her lungs burn from the abrupt change in both altitude and oxygen content.
The sky is a bright ceramic blue, puffy white clouds lazily sailing by as birds chirp merrily in the background, the sounds of an idyllic marred only by the loud wheezing Clarke found herself emitting as she struggled to catch her breath.
Why the fuck is that time jump so goddamn hard? When I go forward it doesn't give me a rib stitch like that, Clarke finds herself thinking as she massages her right rib absentmindedly.
Three large breaths later Clarke finds the fortitude to peel herself off the ground, staggering upright as she shakes the pins and needles out of her leaden feet. She surreptitiously checks the glowing map that surrounds her wrist, noting the golden, pulsing dot in the middle is moving steadily closer to her location.
Nodding decisively, she moves forward, finds a slightly rotten, moss coated log to settle onto by the side of the road, and settles in to wait, eyes glued to the glowing orb that is moving from the crook of her elbow to the green x that is projected above her wrist.
///
Lexa rolls her next side to side slightly, straightening up and nodding infinitesimally back towards Gus's direction when he tilts his head in her direction, eyes questioning.
Yes, I'm ok.
Stiffness from her neck alleviated slightly, Heda settled into the rhythmic movement of her horse, Laika's gentle walk, and resigned herself to a boring ride north, mentally preparing for the mind games and underhanded treachery that two weeks of all of the ambassadors in Polis for their annual meeting held.
At least Luna is coming this year, that's something.
Lexa was so entrenched in the thoughts of her dark eyed friend that she almost missed the flaxen haired girl, curled up slightly off the path on a crumbling redwood log.
Her guards, however, did not.
Lexa was unable to bark an order to stand down before Ryder drew his bow, a lethally honed arrow whistling through the arrow with deadly speed before Lexa could raise a hand in warning.
Before she could breathe, a blue glow washed over the clearing as an orb, crackling and pulsing with energy, encompassed the girl. Ryder's arrow fell to the ground silently at Laika's feet, arrow tip compressed cleanly into a flat disc where it had come in contact with the energy field.
Brow pressed tight in silent disbelief and worry, Ryder silently stooped to scoop up the arrow and hand it to Lexa, both chastisement and concern etched into his features.
The clearing was completely silent, dusk rapidly creeping into the forest as purple smudged the horizon.
The girl was awake now, expression blank behind the wavering energy as she stared silently back at the company before her. She stands quietly, every muscle clearly on alert as she raises her hands in deference to Lexa, either somehow knowing or assuming that she was the one to address. Lexa makes a mental note of her observation skills,
"Hello. My name is Clarke Griffin."
Lexa turned the arrow over in slender fingers twice, thumb gently worrying the downy soft fletching of the owl feathers before coming to a snap decision.
She speaks the language of the mountain people.
"Hei, Clarke Griffin. I am Lexa."
Something akin to recognition washes over Clarke's features, intelligence clear in her bright eyes.
"Lexa."
Confused, Lexa cocks her head, Laika stamping uneasily as Lexa's hands tighten unconsciously on the reigns.
"Lexa kom Trikru." The trig words trip uncomfortable, foreign, off of Clarke's tongue.
Gus's head snaps up at this, hand tightening around his sword as he looks at Clarke Griffin with renewed suspicion.
"The only people who refer to me as that are my familiars or my advisors, of which you are neither, Clarke Griffin. Explain yourself, or you will not be so lucky as for Ryder to miss a second time." The words come out colder, tighter, than initially intended. Clarke's tech and her appearance among a trail that was a tightly kept secret as Heda's preferred traveling path was unlikely to be a lucky guess.
The blue orb flares again around Clarke at Lexa's threatening tone, Lexa's guard blinking against the bright glow that once again surrounds her figure. Despite this, Clarke takes one, then two hesitant steps towards Lexa. Laika
"Lexa. I'm here to help you, to help protect you."
Lexa can feel her eyebrow quirk in amusement and disdain as a ripple of laughter ran through her men. Lexa, clad head to toe in leathers with two swords strapped to her back, black war paint smudged down her cheeks in a fearsome mask, hardly conjured images of helpless maidens in distress. Lexa had staunchly curated her image in defiance of her stature as a slim young woman since the day she had climbed bloodied and victorious out of her Kongeda.
"Protect me?" Lexa snorted in derision, though not unkindly. This Clarke Griffin clearly meant well, although mistaken. While they would have to question her on her knowledge of this trail, there was nothing to be concerned about, Lexa decided as she settled back into her saddle once again. "I highly doubt that, Clarke Griffin."
"I come from a future where you are killed by an unseen assassin at the last night of the yearly ambassador meeting, Heda. With your death the conclave falls into disrepair, triggering the start of World War Four. I was sent back to save you, and I intend to do my job."
The reins slip from Lexa's hands as she is unable to stop the shocked breath from escaping her lips.
A steely blue gaze meets a dazed green stare as Clarke hesitantly lowers the force field, stepping foward into Lexa's path.
"I believe we have much to discuss."
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Bruce was sitting in front of a fire. He had just gotten done cooking his dinner, and had began eating. A teen he didn’t recognize sat next to him. Bruce barely paid the teen any attention; in this time period, kids were more fiercely independent than the teens of his age were.
“So,” The teen drawled, getting his attention.
Bruce internally growled. He didn’t want to make small talk. Just as he was about to tell the teen off, the teen continued speaking.
“What’s Bruce Wayne doing in 1732?”
He choked on his food. He hadn’t heard that name in years. He had gotten stuck in the past during a League mission, and apparently, nobody could save him… or maybe they didn’t know when to look. He had covered his tracks well, since he didn’t want to disturb the timeline too much.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He deflected.
“Oh? So we’re playing it like that?” The teen hummed, swinging his legs. “You won’t be born for over two hundred years, in a city that doesn’t exist yet, to fight crime as the vigilante known as Batman.”
The teenager was a time traveller. Hope sparked him his chest. Maybe… maybe he could go home. “You’re a time traveller.” He chose to ignore the part where the teen knew he was Batman.
“Yeah,” The teen said. “I’m Danny. I’m from your future, about, uh, five years after you vanished? Dick adopted me. Found me dead in an alley and brought me back to life. Brought me into the fold, and stuff. I have powers, and one of them is to travel in time. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find where you went.”
The teen looked like adoption bait. He could understand why Dick would’ve adopted him. But then again, he was still stuck on the part where Dick had adopted a kid at the same age he had adopted Dick.
“Are you here to take me home?” He asked.
“If you want to.” Danny hummed, “But uh, can’t be to the time you left. Timeline disruptions and all that, yknow? I can take you to my time. It’s like… ten years after you vanished.”
“Please.” Bruce begged. And how far had he fallen to beg a teen?
Danny grinned. “Dad’s going to be so jazzed!”
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