Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, that's JK Rowlings.

Xenophon is an OC, his surname taken from the Black Family Tree.

Chapter One: Pureblood and Pride

"Dis-gusting."

The word shocked me out of my absent-mindedness. I looked up from my feet as I walked – disappearing and then reappearing from the black material of my robes – to the face of the tall, young and handsome man who I walked beside.

"What's disgusting?" I asked.

Tom Riddle turned up his nose as we walked past a group of fashion-conscious females. They looked at him with interest, but he scowled back.

"Allowing those types in here, into such a prestigious and prominent place of learning as this."

I looked again at the girls. They had ceased their admiring of his lean body and Grecian features, and were now hiding their faces. One even had the distinct mark of tears running down her face. Obviously they had heard his words.

"What 'choo talkin' abou'?"

A small boy, barely five feet tall ran up and began walking along side us.

"Tom's complaining about the mudbloods again," I explained. Orion Black became the third of the company to look at the collection of girls. He ran a tongue over his lips and shrugged.

"Wha's wrang with theem?'

"If my great ancestor could see us now . . ." Tom began to fume with anger. I was sure if he had been holding his wand out steam would have been rising from the end.

The midget Orion crushed his eyebrows together. For all it was worth he had never understood Tom's dislike of the witches and wizards who had been born straight to muggle parents. Part of it lay in his often painful lack of intelligence, but another part lay in his odd (and considerably un-pureblood-like) obsession to pity others.

"I still don't . . ." he started, but I cut the first-year off before he could say anymore.

"Haven't you got a Transfiguration class to get to?" I asked, looking again at Tom, whose face was almost scarlet. Orion stopped and gazed up at me.

He nibbled his lip nervously. Then he nodded, his two chins wobbling frantically. "Yes Mr. Flint, sir, sorry sir."

He hurried off, hands clutching his too-long robes so that he didn't trip and fall and die.

I heard a sigh from the head above mine. "Fat little sod."

"He's a kid, Tom, don't be cruel."

There was silence from the great Slytherin Seeker, who had led his team to victory twice and was the favourite to take up the captaincy next year. He kept quiet, clearly contemplating my comments and those of our younger house-brother over in his mind. It was a shame, really, the way he treated Orion sometimes. The young Black looked up to Tom Riddle as an idol, an example of greatness.

He kept quiet until we had settled into our next class. "Nevertheless Xenophon," he whispered me in dark tones as we unloaded our heavy cauldrons onto the desks, "As a pureblood he should know better. To have sympathy for those – those leeches -"

"Mister Riddle, Mister Flint," came a booming voice. I jumped, dropping my jar of doxy hair on the desk with a loud clonk. Tom extended his height in his usual dignified manner, and stared at the Professor of Potions with a look of obvious annoyance.

Slughorn crossed his arms over his bulging chest and tapped a foot, waiting for something.

I knew what he was waiting for, but I did not want to apologise, and I knew Tom would never; else it would crush his pride. Realising neither of us was going to say sorry, Slughorn spoke, "I do not appreciate anyone in my classes who does not want to learn. If you have no interest in this class, and all you want to do is talk all the way through it, then I suggest that we talk about later about your quitting it! Is that what you want, Riddle, Flint? Do you want to fail?"

He fell silent again, and the entire class was watching us. I looked at Tom, unsure of what to do. Everyone in the school knew of his great pride, Slughorn included. The fact that he was the Head of our House did not help.

I did not want to risk anything. Despite my own distaste of apologising, I enjoyed potions and Tom's company. "My sincere apologies sir," I said, bowing my head. Once I was erect again, I waited until Slughorn nodded and knew I was forgiven. Then we both looked at Tom. His face was set and determined, unwavering.

Slughorn and the entire class waited for a further five minutes. When the time had passed and the Hufflepuff girls were beginning to squirm with boredom Slughorn unfolded his arms and looked away.

"If that is what you wish, Riddle, then I must ask you to get out of this classroom and wait outside until the duration of the lesson. After that time, come back inside and we'll discuss . . ."

"Alright, I'm sorry," Tom said in a drawl. It was obvious he did not mean it. Without waiting for Slughorn's acceptance he slumped back into his chair, face dark, thoughts murderous.

Professor Slughorn blinked, surprised. Then he shook himself, knowing that it was all he could ever get out of Tom Riddle, proud descent of Salazar Slytherin himself. As the fat man began the lesson and the class began to rattle their ingredients and bags Tom found the opportunity to mutter to me.

"Useless bumpkin," he cursed.

I ignored him and carried on, thankful that this once I was not going to have to beg anyone to let him remain in the class.