Chapter One

We met on the train, me and the Riddle boy.

Hogwarts Express was rather full that day, and it wasn't unusual for a spare student to end up in a compartment full of strangers.

I was relatively alone, with people popping in and leaving on and off for the first half hour. Apparently we wouldn't be arriving until nightfall, if not later than that. Despite my company, I was quite lonely. As a first year, however, this was to be expected.

And then he came in. He had short, floppy black hair and narrow black eyes. He was very pale and his face was unusually gaunt for an eleven year old. He was very, very quiet. But he scared me when he spoke, so I preferred his silence.

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle." He introduced as he has on the seat across from me, "What's your name?"

I peeked at him from over the top of The Daily Prophet, passed him off as another temporary guest, and returned to my article on 'Proper Wand Care for the New School Year'.

"Answer me!" Tom demanded in a voice that should not have belonged to an eleven year old.

The harshness in his voice caused me to jump several inches and drop my paper. "My name is Jannett English. But most people call me Jane."

"Why? Your name is so special." Tom gave me a wide eyed, disbelieving look.

"It's not very... regular. My muggle friends, well, they thought it was unnatural. So they nicknamed me Jane. Easier to remember." I shrugged and slowly picked up my paper.

"But we are special, Jannett. Your muggle friends are burdening you by doing such a thing as calling you 'Jane'." Tom said, his voice like a cracking whip.

I shrugged once more and finished reading my article. Tom Marvolo Riddle. He appeared to be a small boy, out spoken yet timid and very, very broken. But even then, at eleven years old, he had a way of scaring people into listening to him. Even then he was secretly a monster.

The rest of the way to Hogwarts, he somehow got me to tell him about myself, my family and my past.

I grew up with a muggle mother. My father, supposedly, had died before I was born. He was the wizard in the family. On my 11th birthday, in mid May, my mother left the house with my brother, Richard, and my cousin, Whitney, and didn't return. My father appeared and told me everything- why he had disappeared, why mother left. Most importantly, he told me that I was a witch.

Tom seemed to have been upset by my story, which didn't really make much sense.

"You're lucky, you know. My father never came to get me." Tom said, his dark eyes focusing intently on me.

"I sort of wish he hadn't. My mother doesn't want to have anything to do with me anymore." I folded my paper, smoothing the wrinkles as if my life depended it.

"Don't say that!" His harsh tone still surprised me.

I fell out of the booth and onto the compartment floor, I assumed, from the rolling train. His angry black eyes smothered me.

"You don't realize how lucky you are." His voice returned to its unnaturally even tone.

"How am I lucky, Tom? How? My mother hates me. I can never see my brother again. I have to live with a father I don't know!" I didn't understand this Tom Riddle. Who was he to judge me?

"My mother is dead. I will never know my father. I grew up in an orphanage with a drunk for a matron. The other children... I scare them." Quickly, he added, "But that's good. I'd rather be feared than be loved." He stared at his hands, and I suddenly wondered if he was talking to me at all.

I stood up and sat next to Tom. "I'm sorry. That's awful."

"Do not pity me." Tom whispered, sounding less like the eleven year old boy he was and more like the man he would become.

"No. But I am interested in befriending you, Riddle. You seem like an intriguing character." I gave him a smile, which he tried to return.

The train arrived at Hogwarts as the last ray of sunlight slipped below the horizon line. A shabby and exhausted looking teacher bellowed for first years to follow her directions. Tom and I trailed behind a clump of our fellow first years down a sloped path. At the very end was what initially appeared like a long expanse of black grass. But I quickly realized that it was a dark lake. The only light on the water came from the moon's round reflection and tiny oil lamps hanging from a navy of boats gathered near the shoreline.

I grabbed Tom's elbow as to not be separated. He scared me, but he was the closest thing to a friend that I had here. We were ushered onto the boats in a much disorganized manner, yet Tom and I ended up in the same boat. He seemed to be anxious the whole time, continuously checking the water as if he was afraid of something hiding under the surface.

The boats glided slowly but surely across the lake. We were all silent, the only noises coming from the water lapping at the wooden frames of the boats. It took ten minutes for us to cross the lake. Tom never took his eyes off the water.

We unloaded on the opposite shore and the same teacher led us up a steep path and into the castle. As soon as we were grouped into the entry hall, the first teacher left. We were quickly joined by another, cleaner, one. He had auburn hair and a thick beard of the same color. He wore long dark robes that seemed to be covered in tiny twinkling lights, like stars.

"Good evening, first years. My name is Professor Dumbledore. Tonight, as soon as we enter into the Great Hall, you will be sorted into one of four houses- Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. You will be called alphabetically by last name. Once you have been sorted you will sit at the appropriate table and return to your dormitory after supper. Any questions?"

The boy standing in front of me raised his hand, "sir, what about our things?"

"They will be taken to the dormitories after the sorting." Professor Dumbledore answered simply, before checking his pocket watch. "Ah, the time has come. Follow me."

We grouped behind him in less of a line and more of a swarm. Tom walked silently beside me. He had a large frown across his face.

"It takes less muscles to smile than it does to frown." I whispered to him- something my mum had told me on numerous occasions.

"I'm exercising." He retorted.

When we entered the Great Hall, everybody fell silent. On a raised platform, beyond the long student tables but before the staff table, was an old stool. And on top of that stool was an even older hat. It was an old, nasty looking thing. It had no extraordinary qualities that I could tell, until it began to sing. It wasn't a particularly good singer, but it sang. About the houses and feuds and things I didn't understand. After it finished its song, everybody applauded.

Dumbledore, with a scroll in his hand, stepped up next to the stool and began reading names.
"Carson Abbott."

Carson was a chubby boy with thick black hair and slim glasses that seemed very out of place on his largely proportioned body. Dumbledore set the hat on Carson's head, which let out a jubilant "Hufflepuff!"

A table erupted into cheers and Carson padded off to join them. The sorting went on like this for several minutes while I waited for my name to be called. Some sortings were instant (Alice Burbary was declared a Ravenclaw within a second) while others were drawn out (George Caden took several minutes to be declared a Slytherin). Ellen Baker was a Hufflepuff. Emery Dorson was a Gryffindor.

"Jannett English."

Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I left Tom and walked up to the hat. I wondered what house I would be sorted into, and I hoped whatever house I got Tom got the same. Sitting on the stool, I forced away all of the thoughts. Dumbledore placed that hat on my head.

"Hmm. An excellent mind we have here. Brave and loyal too, but I think... Ravenclaw!"

The Ravenclaws erupted into cheers and I bounced down, sitting with my fellow first years. I sat between Elena Burbary and Rowan Corman and across from Alice Burbary.

Elena and Alice were twins, almost identical except in hair color. Elena's hair was a silver color- the same shade as their eyes- while Alice's was a pale blonde. They had a tendency to finish each other's sentences and called it 'Twin Telepathy'.

Rowan Corman had neatly cut light brown hair- a lot like Tom's but a little longer. His eyes were narrow and a bit darker brown with a green ring around the outside. He talked with the attitude and tone of a broadcaster on the BBC.

The sortings went on for a very long time, mostly, I reasoned, because I was waiting for Tom's name to be called.

"Tom Riddle."

I sucked in a breath. Tom sat down and the hat had hardly settled on his head before it bellowed a loud "Slytherin!"

I pouted a little. Tom wasn't a Ravenclaw. I kept my heart up, though, by telling myself that we could still have classes together.

I was a fool to hope so.