He was on his way back to Hogwarts, finally free of the muggle filth he had been immersed in all Summer. They were pathetic, cowering as another muggle, desperate for power, dropped bombs on them. Whimpering in fear. Crying.
It was sickening.
If there was one thing Tom Riddle had never truly felt it was fear.
Really, why was there the need for such an emotion? If you played your cards right, gained control of the situation, and pulled the strings in just the right way, you had power.
Power obliterated fear, and if there was one thing Tom was very good at, it was holding onto it.
When he first arrived it had taken the Slytherin's precisely one minute to realise he was a half-blood.
It had taken them two to fear him.
He quite liked his empire. Yes, his Death Eater's weren't the brightest sort, but they were the best of a bad bunch. Even now he could list everyone's weaknesses, pinpoint them with terrifying accuracy, and destroy with them mercilessly...
"My Lord, how was your holidays?" murmured Black quietly. Tom relished how quickly that had caught on. Of course, if anyone outside his inner circle knew of the title, he would be investigated faster than Dumbledore could offer one of his blasted lemon drops.
It wasn't as if they would find anything, however.
"Adequate, Cygnus," Tom replied, the young Black looking slightly elated at receiving his Lord's attention, opening a chocolate frog with more care under his Lord's gaze.
"I for one cannot see how you stand it there," drawled Abraxus, peeking over the Daily Prophet, "I would have to keep casting cleaning charms on myself every few seconds."
"It is worth it to see them cowering, fearing for their pitiful lives. As if it would matter them dying," laughed Tom coldly. The others in the compartment shared a chuckle.
"They truly are pathetic. Why on the way to King's Cross, mother and I passed a beggar. Imagine that, being reduced to filth beyond filth," Avery's face twisted in disgust.
"One has to hand it to them for their persistence. They just don't die," chimed in Lestrange, taking a break from his game of Wizard's Chess with Avery to look at his Lord.
"If they just died they wouldn't be any fun," said Tom, his words almost coming out as a hiss. Visibly all the Death Eaters flinched, and Tom smirked. Cowards, the lot of them, but useful cowards nonetheless.
"Did you see the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is planning on introducing a creature mapping scheme?" asked Cygnus, and Tom smirked at the deliberate change in conversation. Cygnus's eyes flitted to his, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. It was almost amusing how much they turned to him, wanting his approval on every topic they discussed...
"Father says nothing will come of it. He's been trying for years to get something like this introduced," sighed Abraxus, running his fingers smoothly through his hair.
"Then your father obviously hasn't tried hard enough," said Tom calmly, noting the colour draining from the young Malfoy's face, "If one needs something to be done, one must have the ambition to go after it with all they have, or modify their plans accordingly."
"What Abraxus is trying to say, my Lord, is that the Minister just won't listen," Avery replied, his shoulders slightly hunched as if he expected a withering comment to come flying in his direction.
All Tom did though, was give a thoughtful "Hmm," before directing his attention out of the window again. He tried not to smirk when he sensed the relief flooding through the room.
It was slightly irritating, however, how easy it was to twist these people. They had their uses, but that never made them interesting, and after five years he could already feel the boredom creeping in.
He wanted a challenge. Something that would occupy his mind for more than a few moments...
Said challenge was currently picking at the sleeves of his robes that Dippet had kindly given him until he could get to Diagon Alley for new ones.
They were slightly worn, and he could already tell they had been used by another prior to him. It was a nice gesture, but he felt slightly uncomfortable in another's clothes.
He couldn't really wear his own though. Worn and slightly big would be better than bloodstained and dirty any day.
He could practically hear the rumours that would start about him if he showed up in those!
Pacing his room, Harry felt some nerves begin to bubble in his stomach. Sorting was never pleasant, but without Ron telling him what to do, or Hermione rationalising that the test can't be that bad, he couldn't help the wave of homesickness that engulfed him.
Although it was slightly mental that the person he knew best in this world would be the one who tried to kill him in fifty years time.
Gerda popped up next to him, her hands clutching at her pillowcase nervously.
"Master Dippet told me to inform you the Sorting is about to begin," squeaked the elf.
"Thank you, Gerda, can you show me the way to the Great Hall please?" Harry let a look of fear flit across his face. He knew it wasn't a complete lie, and made an effort to curb his emotions. He'd been through this before, it wasn't that bad!
"You are most polite, Sir!" Gerda said excitedly, her eyes shining with happiness, "Gerda will show you now, Sir!"
Walking through the castle, Harry tried to revert back to his First Year mindset, looking in awe at anything remotely magical. He must have put on a good show, as Gerda twittered away about the history of the castle, and the Headmaster's she had served. She reminded him slightly of Dobby, and when he thanked her as they arrived at the Hall, she looked like she would explode with happiness, muttering how he should go down to the kitchens and ask for her if he needed anything.
To say the First Years were looking at him strangely would be an understatement. One boy even had his mouth agape, and Harry glared at him, seeing the boy visibly shrink back to talk to a girl with honey blonde hair.
Compared with his time the castle hadn't changed much, the students, however, were a different story. Many looked refined, but some looked scarily thin, and it was easy to tell the Purebloods from the Muggleborns.
It was strange to think that only a few miles away a war was being fought.
"First years, over here please," came a voice Harry would recognise anywhere.
Seeing Dumbledore young in a memory was startling different than seeing him in life. He wore magenta robes dotted with silvers stars which clashed tremendously with his auburn hair. Harry could already hear the First Years whispering about him, and he realised that Grindelwald was happening right now as well, and many thought Dumbledore was the only reason he hadn't reached Britain yet.
However, when those brilliant blue eyes fell on him, he could have been back in his time for all he knew. Dumbledore offered him a small smile which Harry tentatively returned, and next thing he knew he was being ushered into the Hall.
This was different from his first Sorting. Not only that it was in 1943, but more that he wasn't being gawked at... Well he was, but it wasn't for defeating Voldemort at least.
Speaking of Voldemort, Harry could already see Tom Riddle sitting in the middle of the Slytherin table. He recognised most of the people around him based on their future relations. The Death Eaters in the making, if not already.
Despite the chatter Riddle was silent, and Harry noted he only spoke when asked a direct question, or ignored someone entirely - Harry was sure he saw a relation of Dolohov looking dejected when he never got so much as an acknowledgement.
Turning his attention back to the line in front of him he could feel the weight of the Heir's gaze on him before leaving him after a few moments. Apparently he wasn't that entertaining.
Harry got the joy of being Sorted first, after Dippet gave a speech on how to be nice to him, and not ask intrusive questions - he might as well have just gave Harry a giant sign saying 'Ask me anything, I'm mysterious!'
Trying not to roll his eyes at the sudden increase in interest from the students, Harry felt the smooth velvet of the hat be placed on his head, this time not going over his eyes, and heard the familiar sound of the Sorting Hat's voice in his mind.
'Time-traveller, eh? Don't get many of those now, but see here, looks like I've had you before," came the hat's breathy voice.
'Can you just Sort me already?' asked Harry impatiently.
'Well, you went to Gryffindor the first time... let's try SLYTHERIN!' The hat announced the house name, and Harry all but yanked it back from Dumbledore to demand to be let into Gryffindor. Hell, he'd even settle for Hufflepuff!
Everyone in the Hall started cheering as he numbly made his way towards the table.
Harry wasn't focused on this, however, he was now focused on the very heavy gaze of Tom Riddle.
Apparently he was interesting now. Great.
A/N: Wow, I'm surprised at the interest this has generated, personally I thought the first chapter was pretty awful - People who have read my work before will know I hate them with a passion!
The Death Eaters here were pieced together on the Harry Potter Wiki with various family trees - any errors are mine alone.
Do you think the characterisation of Tom seems alright? Keep in mind this year he commits his first murders, so he won't be a ray of sunshine.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter :'(