Sarah glanced in front and behind her at the other first years waiting to be sorted into their respective houses. She smirked; they were all jittery, jumpy and excited with nerves. Unlike her; Sarah, as usual, was calm and collected, never jumpy. It was calm and uncaring or seething and all glares with her.

"Sarah...Lirdde?" The uneasy voice of Minevera McGonagall sounded throughout the hall and she could sense hundreds of eyes settle on her as she strode confidently to the stool. She knew what was going though each mind: A sense of deja vu to be reckoned with matching with her Name for one, and her appearance. They were both reminiscent of the dark Lord. Riddle, Lirdde, both spelled with the same letters. It was no coincidence. Her last name, in earnest, was Riddle. The one and only heir to the Slytherin throne.

She sat atop the stool after a moment of struggling to get atop it. Her small stature a bit of an inconvenience. The hat, already looming over her head- obviously going to be far too big for her- had not even touched her crown, before it screamed "Slytherin!" It sent the headmaster looks that reeked 'Keep an eye on this one, Sir."

Smirking rather creepily, maliciously many would say, she slipped down off the hard wooden seat and walked slowly to the table of her predicted house. As she made her way to the rear of the table, a leg jutted out in front of her suddenly and she tripped ungracefully, falling flat on her face. She looked up into the mocking face of the offender. She got to her feet, brushing herself off whilst scowling. Her hands curled into tight balls, trying to master her rage. Always quick to be angered.

"Aww, how cute," the sixth year Gryffindor who was responsible for her blunder drawled as if talking to an infant. Definitely not smart. "You ought to be more careful, ickle firstie~"
"What did you call me?" She growled through gritted teeth, temper flaring.
"Oh, how adorable! She's upset! What are you going to do little kiddie? Annoy me to death with endless crying?" He continued. Sarah, however, had picked up on the inkling of change in his eyes which had hinted at fear before he had hidden it back in his Lion like exterior.
"You've obviously got no clue what I'm capable of." He hand was involuntarily going to her inner breast pocket for her wand.
"And what could you possibly do to me?" He chuckled, turning to his friends, who he was obviously showing off for, to make sure they were watching. They, of course, were stupid enough to laugh along.

The candles above the heads of the students in the Great hall flared, wax beginning to drip at an alarming rate from a few. A few students were hissing as they were scolded by the hot liquid dripping onto them. Many first years pulled their formal hats onto their heads and others simply roughed it out or covered their heads with their sleeves. The fire was reacting to the raw magical aura Sarah gave off when angered.

The boy's smile faded and gave way to an expression as he looked up and saw that the candle directly above Sarah, had the largest flame of all. He blanched Sarah, he realized rather dumbly was a force to be reckoned with. The resonating flames were voice of that. He gulped and began to back away, Sarah smiling cruelly, noticed. Stepping forward, Sarah kept the distance between them the same. The Gryffindor was sweating profusely now, and not just from the intense heat of the room caused by the candles. The staff had, for the most part been shocked into silence.
"Sarah!" Severus Snape began, trying in vain to sound like an authority figure towards the girl who he knew in his heart, never would obey anyone. He had been the first to speak, minus the shrieks of the students (and Flitwick). Everyone else in the room had remained still and silent stunned into terrified silence.
"Sarah, Sto-"
"Shut up, uncle!" She exploded. Drawing her wand, she threw a spell at the boy, effectively hurtling him towards the back wall. And thus, The new dark lord was born. Or rather, born into society.