Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter.
Chapter One
Catherine gazed at her own misted reflection in the window of the Hogwarts Express, seeing her ordinary, pale face framed by plain, brown hair. Her heart thrummed at the centre of her chest as she changed her focus to the neat green fields that flitted past the window. She recalled her mother's expression before she boarded the train. The sadness and fear of letting her eleven year old daughter step onto a train with a group of strangers, to be educated in a school she had never heard the likes of before, had not been entirely concealed by her loving smile.
Catherine looked away from the window, from the scenes flying by outside and the reflection of her two, dark eyes and instead glanced around the compartment in which she was sitting. She was completely alone, although she could hear laughter and disturbances from behind the compartment door. She sighed. Back at home (before everything had changed) she had been an outsider. Things always seemed to happen to her, that were out of her control, including the time she touched a small bush, which instantly sprouted crimson berries. Then, one night, everything was explained in the form of a pleasant, auburn haired man, whose hair and beard fell below his waist. His name was Albus Dumbledore and as he stepped politely over the threshold of their small terraced house, her mother had gazed at his long robes in astonishment. He then proceeded to explain that Catherine was, in fact, a witch, born of non-magical parents.
Of course, her parents thought he was insane, until he pulled out a long stick – a wand – and swished it, causing the tea set on the coffee table to perform a tap dance. After then, Catherine and her parents lost their sceptical views. Magic existed.
Catherine sighed again, pulling out the wand she had acquired from a young, bright-eyed man called Ollivander. She waved it through the air absent-mindedly, feeling unpleasantly low. At home, she had been shunned for being different, strange, but she had hoped that here, she would be accepted more quickly by people who also had magic in their blood. But here she was, sitting alone.
A scrapping noise interrupted her thoughts. The compartment door slid open and a pale boy of her age stepped in.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Everyone is acting a little too over-excited for my liking. May I sit here?"
Even though Catherine could see he was her own age, he wore an oddly mature expression. She had always thought boys of her own age were immature and annoying. Not him. His face appeared to be carefully carved, angular and he had a head of thick black hair. His dark eyes met hers and his lips pulled into a smile.
"Yes," muttered Catherine, feeling a blush creep up her face and an odd sensation she didn't quite understand. "I'm Catherine Mills, by the way."
"Thank you," the boy answered, taking the seat directly across from her. "My name is Tom Riddle." They sat in silence for a while and Catherine became aware that she was still twirling her wand. Tom noticed as well and she immediately stopped. Tom spoke again. "Have you ever done any magic? On purpose I mean, not by accident." His eyes were glinting excitedly.
"Well," she hesitated. Not sure if this would count. "I waved my wand at a chair to see what happened and it fell over." He laughed.
"Well I guess that's something."
"So what amazing magic have you produced?" asked Catherine, irritated. "It's not fair, you know, I didn't even know about magic until Professor Dumbledore came." She noticed him wrinkle his nose at the name. Then he smiled.
"It was the same for me," he smirked. "I didn't know about magic, either. However, I knew I could make strange things happen and I learnt to control it."
"Are you just trying to make me feel bad?" she pouted, although she wasn't really irritated any more. She was, in fact, impressed.
"Of course not," he replied sincerely.
"Will you show me?" Tom hesitated for a moment, then whipped out his wand. He muttered something under his breath and pointed it as his left hand, then a small blue flame appeared in his palm. "Wow," she breathed, her eyes reflecting the dancing blue flames. Tom closed his fist around the flame, which vanished.
"Impressed?" he asked, his lips twitching again.
"Really impressed." She gazed at the boy curiously. His surname was truly apt... he was most definitely, a Riddle.
