His name was murmured throughout the school. Known for his looks, his dark, calmly ruffled hair and his deep, penetrating eyes that were said to be able to see straight through you. His calm demeanor, his knowledge of every subject. His cool attitude, the matter of fact voice in which he spoke, the persuasive edge he got when speaking to a teacher. The calm shadow of a smirk that would grace his lips whenever he felt amused.
Tom Riddle.
His friends were all the rowdy kids from Slytherin, Abraxas Malfoy, Lestrange, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and so on. Somehow, when they were with him, they were much more composed. They looked up to him, idolized him even.
Every girl wanted him.
Tom was known for being a heart breaker. He wasn't really a playboy, he would just befuddle a girl's mind and then leave them in the dust.
Tom didn't seem to care for relationships, or love. He seemed to be working towards something else, something so above everybody else that they would be stupid to even think about it.
Tom Riddle was like a god at Hogwarts. He knew it. Nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him.
But there was one. Someone unknown.
He had been watching her for a while, since first year.
Something about her fascinated him. Maybe it was the fire that seemed to boil in her blood, maybe it was the way her eyes would fixate on one thing and her gaze would pierce right through it.
Maybe it was the fact that she was beautiful.
But Tom Riddle kept his distance, not wanting to fall in the trap, the trap he knew love was.
He simply watched her during their classes, and while they sat near each other in the library, but when she wasn't in his line of sight he would think about his plans for the future, his plans to rule the world.
But then he would see her, and his thoughts would stop tumbling around, like a washing machine on pause.
He would force himself to focus, because she was just a lowly Ravenclaw.
Or so he would tell himself.
But one day, during his fourth year, one of the older Slytherin boys were taunting some of her Hufflepuff friends. The Slytherin pushed one of them backwards, and she fell, and then the Slytherin boy drew his wand, as if to curse her. Everyone was laughing, and Tom watched with bored eyes.
Suddenly, she was there.
She drew her own wand, and started screaming at the Slytherin boy. The Slytherin boy, growing annoyed and angry, flicked his wand, as if to hex her, but she sliced through the air with her own wand, as if cutting through the air with a knife, screaming profanities at him.
A shield so bright erupted out of the tip of her wand and slammed into the bully, who flew backwards into a tree and cracked his skull. Everyone gasped and moved back in alarm, and suddenly the noise around everyone dimmed and the wind blew through the air as her shield hit everyone within a 100 foot radius.
Tom just managed to cast himself in a bubble as everyone around him went flying, their mouths wide in a surprised O. Some girls screamed as they hit the ground, some boys groaned in pain.
She just stood there, shocked at what had happened, as her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
Tom was looking at her eyes the whole time.
He, unlike everyone else, had seen the flash of purple that had flashed in her eyes as she had cast the shield.
He had seen the tiny purple flash at the tip of her wand.
And since he had not been knocked over, he had seen the ripple of purple in the shield as it had neared him.
He immediately realized her power.
He knew what she was, after reading so much about it.
She was a sorceress.
The last one in existence.
She was a direct descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw, who had been the first sorceress.
A smirk spread across Tom's face as he realized his infatuation with her would not go to waste.
She was not just a pretty face. She was powerful. Even though she was untrained, the amount of power in her tiny body would do well in his future. She could stand by his side.
Tom needed to have her.
After watching her for a second more, he turned on his heel, his cloak swishing behind him, and strode off, determined to find out as much as he could in the art of sorcery.