If I told you that from that handshake on, Tom and I were the best of friends and lived happily ever after, I would be lying. I mentioned before that I had been sorted into Gryffindor, and that spelled problems for Tom and I right from the get go. It didn't take long for me to realize that Slytherin and Gryffindor Houses were utter rivals. My own Housemates made certain that I was aware of this fact.

"You see, Amelie," said Madeleine Quirkenheim one day in the Library, "there is a reason that nobody likes the Slytherins: they're all a bit… cold-hearted. Very self-serving, if you know what I mean. They will mow down anyone at anytime, friend or foe, if it means achieving their ends."

I found Madeleine's definition of a Slytherin to be a little over the top. After all, the Slytherins were just students, like the rest of us. Sure, they were competitive, but so was I. But, just like any other fifteen-year-old girl, I allowed myself to dissipate into the rivalry and did my best to out-spell, out-brew, out-fly, and basically out-do the Slytherins in any way possible. I no longer sat near Tom or any other green-crested student in class, and I snickered with the rest of my Gryffindor girlfriends when a Slytherin happened upon a bit of misfortune.

One day, however, misfortune settled its gaze on me. I was on my way down to the Library that evening to do a bit of studying, when I happened upon a particular step that I had been warned before to avoid. No sooner had my foot touched the stone than my leg was swallowed up by the rogue step. I was in a very awkward position, my knee perched on one step while my other leg had disappeared into the step below it. I groaned and tugged with all my might, willing the step to release me. Beauxbatons had never been plagued by trick steps or moving staircases or anything of the like, and I found myself suddenly wishing I was safely back within its glistening, Louis XIV-style décor.

It didn't take long for my leg to become sore, and I silently berated myself for having left my wand back in my dormitory. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard footsteps approaching from below. Oh, hurry! I thought, my leg screaming with pain. The footsteps grew closer, and finally their owner emerged in the entrance to the staircase. It was Tom Riddle, arms laden with books. Immediately he saw me, and his mouth slowly twisted into that smirk he was so fond of.

"Well, well, well," he said, slowly climbing the stairs toward me, "what have we here? Could it be? Would an oh-so-smart-and-wonderful-Gryffindor really allow herself to be caught up by something so simple as a trick stair?"

"Tom, please, you have to get me out of here!" I cried. My back was now starting to ache from being hunched in such an unnatural position. Tom stopped a couple of steps below me and carefully set his books down. He folded his arms across his chest and grinned at me.

"Didn't they teach you how to get yourself out at that French school of yours?" he taunted. I frowned and gave another tug at my leg, only serving to cause myself more pain.

"Tom, I don't have time for this," I said evenly, glaring at him. "Now if you will be so kind as to help me-"

"Kind?" Tom interrupted, grinning even more broadly. "But everyone knows that Slytherins aren't kind. We're mean, cruel, heartless brutes, isn't that what you Gryffindors say?"

I could see that Tom was in no hurry to lend me a hand. On the contrary, he actually seemed to be enjoying the spectacle very much. "Oh, will you just grow up?" I snarled through gritted teeth. I could feel my face turning red, a mixture of both anger and embarrassment.

"Hmmm," Tom said thoughtfully, shaking his head at me, "is that really a nice way to talk to someone who is your only chance of getting out of that step?" I was about to answer, when more footsteps sounded at the bottom of the staircase. I hoped with all my might that it was a fellow Gryffindor, but was much dismayed when a drawling, unfriendly voice hailed Tom.

"What's going on, Riddle?" asked a Slytherin third year, with whom I was only vaguely familiar. Tom turned around and greeted his Housemate.

"Oh, not much, Abraxas," he said lazily, "just a Gryffindor stuck in stone." The blond boy stopped next to Tom and shook his head.

"Well, looks like she won't be getting a good night's rest tonight," Abraxas Malfoy said, looking up at the older Tom. "Serves her right."

Tom didn't answer this, but was staring at me intently. I heaved a great sigh and pounded the hard stone floor with my fist. "One of you just help me out, or I'll-"

"Or you'll what?" said Tom. It wasn't a threat, really, nor was it even a taunt. It was a sincere question. Tom Riddle wanted to know what I would do if he didn't help me out. I faltered, my eyes dropping momentarily to the floor. When Tom assumed that commanding air, it was hard to know how to react.

"Or I'll be stuck here all night," I said finally, my pride forming a lump in my throat as I swallowed it. Malfoy snickered uncontrollably, his frail figure shaking with mirth beneath his black robes. Tom, however, did not laugh, but looked at me quite seriously.

"Well, that's an honest answer," he said softly.

"Come on, Tom," said Abraxas, still chuckling, "let's go. We'll see how all that Gryffindor bravery holds out being stuck alone in a dark corridor all night."

"Quiet, Malfoy," Tom said evenly, gaining immediate silence from his younger companion. Tom climbed two more stairs, closing the distance between us, and drew his wand out of his robes. I held my breath as he deftly aimed the dark wand at my immersed leg. "Extractorus," he said.

Immediately, the pain subsided and I was able to lift my leg out of the stone. I stood up rather stiffly and bent to massage my aching limb. Finally, I looked up at Tom. Although he was standing two steps below me, his eyes were level with mine. Once again, I was momentarily struck by the intensity and sadness of his dark eyes. Malfoy lurked behind him, looking a bit sulky for having been overruled.

"Thank you," I said. A bit of the smirk returned to Tom's face.

"You'll be all right from here, won't you?" he asked. I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, I'll be fine."

"Very well, then," Tom said. "See you in class." He nodded politely and edged past me, continuing up the stairs. "Oh, and Malfoy," he called lazily over his shoulder, "grab those books, will you?"

Abraxas mechanically bent and retrieved the stack of books Tom had laid down before and trudged after Tom, casting me a haughty glance as he passed.