Author's Notes: I've been wanting to write a first-person fanfic for a while now, so this is it. I don't know if I'll continue this though. It depends on the response I get for each chapter. Thus, if you like this story, please leave a review so I can gauge how well the reception is to the story. The title is temporary too. I might change it later on. Anyway, enough babbling from me. I hope you enjoy!
Off My Radar
By heeha
Chapter 1
(Harry's POV)
The sun slowly dips below the horizon as the train chugs along to its destination - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I sit inside the train, watching the sun's descent, as my friends squabble about god knows what.
" - isn't that right, Harry?" says Hermione suddenly. I have absolutely no idea as to what she's talking about.
Turning my head to look at her, I say, "Er, yeah. Right." Hermione smiles triumphantly.
"See, Ron? I told you!" she says. I direct my gaze to Ron, who has a scowl on his face.
"Yeah, well, whatever," says Ron, crossing his arms. "I can't believe you agree with Hermione on this."
I shrug and say, "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway," pretending to know what I'm talking about when I actually have absolutely no clue whatsoever.
Ron suddenly smiles, "Y'know, mate, you're right. It doesn't matter. I can't believe we got so worked up about this."
"Well, you started it," huffs Hermione. "I was merely correcting you."
Ron rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We all know how much you love Tom Riddle."
"I do NOT love Tom Riddle," says Hermione indignantly. "I just can't stand factual inaccuracies."
"You can call it a factual inaccuracy, but deep down, I still think he's a git in disguise," says Ron. Oh. So they're talking about Tom Riddle. That's nothing new.
"And that's why I say you're unfairly biased against him," says Hermione. "He hasn't done anything to you, or anyone else for that matter, yet you still believe the worst of him."
"It's not being biased, Hermione," says Ron. "It's called trusting my gut instincts. And it just so happens that my gut instincts tell me that Tom Riddle is bad news."
"Well, your gut instincts are wrong this time," says Hermione assertively. "Tom Riddle has been nothing but an exceptional role model and student. Just because he's perfect in everything he does, doesn't mean there's something wrong with him."
"I'm not basing my perception on how perfect he is, Hermione. I just get this bad feeling whenever I'm around him," says Ron.
"Judging someone based on unfounded feelings is ridiculous!" exclaims Hermione. "What if I thought you were evil just because I got a bad feeling about you? How would you like to be thought of in that way?"
Ron frowns. "Well, I would think you were a biased bitch, but that's beside the point. You don't get a bad feeling about me, so you can't use that as an example."
"My example shows how biased you're being, and the fact that you would think I'm a biased bitch if I thought you were evil from a bad feeling only further supports my point of view!"
Suddenly, the compartment's door opens, and who should it be but Tom freaking Riddle. He looks at us, raises an eyebrow, and says, "Who's calling Granger a biased bitch now?"
Hermione blushes a furious red. "No one is, Tom. It was just an example." Tom cocks his head to the side.
"Sounds like an interesting example to me," says Tom. "What was it based on?"
"We were just talking about making judgments based on gut feelings, and I was saying how it's not fair to judge someone as evil just because you get a bad feeling from them," elaborates Hermione.
"While that may be right in theory, Hermione, in reality, I would trust my gut instincts," says Tom. Ron grins widely while Hermione gapes at Tom.
"WHAT?!" exclaims Hermione. "Why would you trust your gut instincts if I'm right in theory?"
"Because," says Tom, "my gut instincts have never been wrong before. Besides, even if the person isn't evil, I'm sure it would be of no great loss to me if I were to distance myself from that person. I have plenty of friends and acquaintances already. Losing one potential acquaintance is hardly of any consequence to me." His eyes meet my own and he asks, "What about you, Potter? What do you think?" Dammit. Why is everybody asking for my opinion on this?
"Er...Well..." I start, trying to buy some time to think of something to say. Neutral ground seems to be the safest side to take, so I say, "I think it depends on the person. Sometimes a gut feeling could be right, and sometimes it could be wrong. It all depends."
Tom nods his head in agreement. "That's true; it's always dependent on the person. How very astute of you to point that out." I flash a small smile at him for his compliment, which he returns with a smirk of his own. Whatever bad feelings Ron gets from Tom, I'm not getting them. So maybe Hermione is right about Tom. Maybe Ron's gut instincts are wrong this time.
"So how has my favourite golden trio been doing?" asks Tom, taking a seat opposite us in the compartment.
"Since when have we been your favourite golden trio?" inquires Ron. Hermione elbows him hard in the ribs, causing Ron to yelp in pain.
"Don't mind him, Tom. He's just being difficult," says Hermione. Tom raises an eyebrow, but says nothing in response. "We've been doing fine, overall. Thanks for asking." She flashes a bright smile at him, blatantly ignoring Ron, who's gently nursing his ribs. "How was your summer?"
"Tedious, as usual," says Tom. "Life without magic is pretty dull. I can't wait to come of age and be rid of these ridiculous age restrictions."
"Why? What do you plan to do when you're no longer bounded by rules?" asks Ron.
"Let's just say, I have great plans," says Tom cryptically.
"Do you plan on becoming Minister for Magic, Tom?" asks Hermione. "I think you'd be a great Minister."
"Perhaps," says Tom. "I haven't decided what sort of career path I plan to pursue just yet. My options are still open."
"You're lucky you have so many options," I cut in. "Some of us aren't so lucky."
Tom turns to look at me. "You already have a career path in mind though, don't you, Potter? If I'm not mistaken, I believe you want to be an Auror, don't you?"
"Yes," I admit. "I want to be an Auror. But I was talking about people in general. Some people have a limited number of careers to choose from, seeing as how they didn't do so well on their exams."
"As long as you're not one of them, you have nothing to worry about," says Tom. His crimson eyes meet mine. "You aren't one of them, are you?"
"Thankfully, no," I say, grinning. "I have Hermione to thank for that."
"Of course you would have the brilliant Hermione Granger to assist you," says Tom. I divert my gaze to Hermione, who's blushing beet red at Tom's compliments.
"I'm not that brilliant, Tom," says Hermione modestly. "I'm not as brilliant as you."
"Perhaps you're not," says Tom, "but you come a close second." If possible, Hermione's face turns even redder at Tom's compliment. Honestly, if I didn't know any better, I would think that Hermione actually fancied Tom. However, I happen to know that Hermione has liked Ron for ages, and vice versa. She just holds Tom in high esteem.
As we feel the train come to a stop, Tom stands up from his seat across from us. "Well, I better head back to my compartment. I'll see you guys around." We say our goodbyes to Tom, who opens the door to our compartment and leaves. When the train stops, Hermione, Ron, and I gather our things and get off the train. Horseless carriages transport us to the castle in fifteen minutes, which is pretty fast if you ask me. We enter the castle through the grand oak doors and sit down at the Gryffindor table, waiting expectantly for the sorting to start.
The sorting takes half an hour to finish, after which Dumbledore thankfully says, "Tuck in!" A feast appears before our eyes, and we dig in hungrily, eating every treacle tart and goose leg that we can get our hands on. I stuff myself full of food, having been deprived of it back at the Dursleys. I must look like a pig to my peers, but I don't really care. They don't have to follow the agonizingly sparse Dudley Dursley diet like I do.
When the feast is over, Dumbledore dismisses us, and we all start to head to our common rooms. As I pass by the Slytherin table, my eyes snag on Tom, who's laughing merrily among his Slytherin friends. He looks so carefree and happy. There's no way that Ron's right about him. Even if Tom trusts his gut instincts, Ron's instincts must be mistaken, because all I see right now is a talented wizard, happy among friends.
Tom suddenly catches my eye. He smirks and raises his hand in greeting. I smile and raise my left hand in return before turning away and heading back to Gryffindor Tower.
Ron must be wrong about Tom Riddle. After all, how can Tom, model student and friend to many, be anything but good?
