Slytherin

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and everything created by JK Rowling, was... well... created by JK Rowling. We thought we might trick you, by pretending we were in fact the sole creators of Harry Potter and all related to him, but decided against it, at the last moment. We will however, hold to the fact of creating Tobias Riddle, Arpazia Whelk, Leopold Dreigle, Grinsby the Apothecary, Krislan Brask, and anyone else whom you don't remember having been featured in the wonderful book series. And any spells that you don't recognize are just nonsense creations that we concocted for certain situations. Oh yeah, we also created Cocoa Puffs. Wait... no. Scratch that.

Summary: Albus Dumbledore has abruptly accepted three exchange students, all from presumably American backgrounds, to attend the Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unbeknownst to even themselves, their fates are interwoven with each other, those around them, and the horrid past that plagued the wizarding world for over a decade. Will Tobias Riddle a surly, quiet orphan find that his title means exactly what it implies? Or is there something more sinister at hand? What of his patched memory, his strange lack of everyday knowledge?

Chapter Two- The Sorting Ceremony

The main hall of Hogwarts was buzzing with life. First years scrambled here and there, tripping over their too long robes and dropping their heavy textbooks. Magical pets ran amuck, frogs leaping from table to table, cats yowling bad temperedly. Many students stopped to gawk at the tall, beautiful ceiling that displayed a moving, ever-changing replica of the outdoor sky. Right now it was a dingy gray, with a few spots of patchy sunlight, but it was wondrous nonetheless.

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry was exactly that. Young wizards and witches, from all different background, joined together to learn the art of magic. They attended classes run by prestigious, carefully selected Professors, most of whom originated from Hogwarts themselves, and also competed in extracurricular activities such as Quidditch, a popular broom- stick flying game, a lot like soccer, but in many ways, not at all like soccer.

The new students had just arrived on the Hogwarts Express, and after an eerily silent trip across the lake in small boats, they had all been ushered into the main dining hall. They clambered into seats, talking loudly, as the witches and wizards who taught and took care of the school took their seats, at a long curved table.

Most of the conversation concerned three peculiar 'first years'. They looked far older than the usual eleven, the age at which most students joined Hogwarts. They sat together, but not really together, as they clearly did not know each other.

One was a boy of medium height, who had his arms crossed and his head tipped forward as if he was sleeping. He had reddish brown hair and pale skin, but all other features were indistinguishable. He looked to be at least seventeen years old.

The other two were girls. One was relatively short with long red-blonde hair and almond shaped green eyes that darted to and fro as she took in her surroundings. One particular point of interest was the ceiling, and her eyes stayed on it for long amounts of time, her head tilted backwards, nose in the air. She looked younger than the other two, but was probably around the same age.

The last was a tallish girl with tawny brown hair in two long, long braids. They touched the floor, with a little slack to them, and she was seated. Her eyes were round and hazel colored. She was about nineteen at first guess. Far too old to be a first year, much less a Hogwarts student at all.

The room began to grow silent, as the Headmaster of the school, Professor Albus Dumbledore stood. He was a tall man in gaily colored robes. He had long silver hair that adorned both his head and his face. His beard reached nearly his waist. His eyes were kind and soft blue, and his nose was long and crooked, as if it had been broken many times. He had a tattered old wizard hat in hand, and was now clearing his throat profusely, attempting to catch the attention of the children. The three at the table turned to regard him, the boy lifting his head.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry, my friends." Dumbledore said jovially, when it became quiet. "Here you will learn everything about using, containing, and deflecting magic. Not to mention the Care of Magical Creatures, and Astronomy, Magical Drafts and Potions and Arithmancy. Some of these classes are available to you now, though others will come when you're a bit older. Nonetheless, we, the faculty, wish you only the best of luck, and happiness in the years to come. As you may or may not know, the Hogwarts school is divided into four different houses. Depending on where you are placed, you will sleep, eat and go to class with your housemates. The houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. They will be like your family. Every year, we have a low-key contest called the House Cup. The Slytherin's had a winning streak for a few years, but lately Gryffindor has been pulling ahead. Keep in best behavior and achieve good grades, and you will earn points for your house. Bad behavior and poor marks will earn you the opposite."

Dumbledore held the tattered old wizard hat up, and a hundred sets of eyes followed it. "This... is the Sorting Hat. It will decide which house you will be in, by peering into your soul and plucking out the attributes that are most prominent."

He placed the hat on the podium in front of him. There was deafening silence for a few moments, and then the tear along the hat's brim pulled open, and the hat began to sing.

First years come,

And sit right down,

upon this stool,

of great renown.

Take this talking hat,

the only of my kind,

and let me see into,

the insides of your mind.

By each secret wish,

and each sparkling thought,

I will devise,

where you belong, and where you do not.

Shall you go,

with fearless tread,

to Gryffindor,

to take your bed?

Or maybe off,

to Ravenclaw,

where the wise don't sleep,

but conquer law?

To Hufflepuff?

That loyal bunch,

who (despite the name)

will work through lunch?

Perhaps to Slytherin,

with a cunning few,

to reap what's sown,

and to sow anew?

Which ever house

I send you to,

be sure it is the right,

what once was false, now is true,

and what was dark, is light.

Be wary of what seems to be,

for it is surely not.

Beware of all that seems fresh,

for it is surely rot!



Professor Minerva McGonagall stood up. She was a stern woman with black hair that was pulled tightly back into a neat bun. She had a strict face, and the students immediately respected her.

"When your name is called, you will approach the stage and await to be sorted." McGonagall said in a commanding voice. A scroll unraveled from her hands, and she barked out the first name.

"Annger, Mart!"

A thin, beady-eyed boy with messy blonde hair and fidgeting hands walked to the stage. He was directed to a stool, and as soon as he sat, the Sorting Hat was dropped upon his head. It was too big, and fell over his eyes. All the first years leaned forward in anticipation.

After a moment's silence the hat screamed: "SLYTHERIN!"

Many students let out sighs of relief as Mart Annger bounded off the stage, grinning. This didn't look nearly as embarrassing or complicated as they had initially thought it to be.

One by one, they wore the hat, and it screeched out their assigned Houses, ("GRYFFINDOR!", "RAVENCLAW!") until no one remained. Except for the three older kids at the corner of the room. McGonagall paused when she got to their names. Everyone fell silent.

"We have three transfer students from an American school, Westridge School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She said clearly, and all heads turned to stare at the subjects of her sentence. "They will be entering higher grades, but still need to be sorted, as their school did not have a House system."

The three stood, if reluctantly, and McGonagall began the list once more.

"Riddle, Tobias!"

There was a ripple of murmurs among the teachers as the name was called, and all eyes followed him to the stage. The Sorting Hat was placed on his head. The wait was longer than the others, as if the hat was having a nice long mental talk with Tobias.

"Well now, isn't this interesting? An honor, an honor. Hmm... so confused yet quick-thinking. So famous, but unassuming. So kind, yet ever so cunning... I had better put you in..."

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat bellowed. There was no one speaking as he walked back to his seat. He fell back into his chair and resumed his earlier position.

"Whelk, Arpazia!" McGonagall called. The short, carrot haired girl stood, and strolled importantly to the stage. She practically snatched the Sorting Hat out of McGonagall's hands. There was a slightly longer pause.

"My, my, my... So nice, so friendly, so caustic, so sarcastic. My, my. Ravenclaw, perhaps? What do you think?"

Holding her breath, she found herself desperately wanting to be in the same house as the boy, Tobias.

"You want to be in Slytherin? ...cunning, sarcasm, leadership... it's all here. Very well. Little good will come of this, I'm sure, but..."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"And Brask, Krislan!" The girl with the long brown braids stood slowly, and approached the stage with wariness, her hands clasped in front of her. The hat was dropped on her head, and she squinched her eyes shut as it weighed her mentally.

"Oh, no contest here, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

Then: "SLYTHERIN!"

"It must be broken." A teacher was saying to another. "That last one didn't look like Slytherin material."

Dumbledore was getting up again. He smiled. "My, wasn't that a coincidence. Anyway, just a few important announcements before we feast. Firstly, Miss Brask will be a WA, that is, a Wizarding Apprentice. She has technically graduated from Westridge High, as they only go up to six years, but will be entering Hogwarts as a seventh year. She will only officially attend about three classes." He held up a small pewter cauldron. "We could not decide whom she would be assisting, as we're all a very selfish and scatter brained lot," He paused, as a few children laughed, "and we deemed this to be the easiest solution. Miss Brask?"

Krislan rose again and the cauldron hovered to her, floating just in front of her face. "Reach in, and remove a piece of parchment. It will have the room number, class and name of the teacher you will assist, as well as other important items of information."

Krislan reached into the cauldron and retrieved a piece of paper, but, instead of sharing, immediately sat down and put it in her robe pocket.

"Secondly, the Triwizard Tournament will not be held again this year, since we had so many foul complications the year before. The Quidditch cup will resume as normal."

A small cheer rose throughout the crowd. Dumbledore inclined his head slightly.

"That will be all."

~

-Wasn't that strange.- Arpazia thought dreamily. -Three in a row, three exchange students, the same house.- She was wholly unaware that the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore had said much of the same. She found herself following Tobias to the Slytherin table. The people she had met on the train (all in the same house, she noted) gave her half-hearted waves, but she deduced that their brief friendship had been downplayed to acquaintance upon her being Sorted. Ron and Harry were staring daggers at the Slytherin table. Strangely students hastily vacated a seat for Tobias, who seemed to take no notice, but there was an absence of an open seat for herself. She frowned, hands on hips, when a familiar voice called out.

"Arpazia! So glad you have the honor of being in Slytherin!" Draco trilled. As he gestured for her to join him his two large friends from the train rose and scuttled off to another table. "Please, sit down."

Arpazia sat reluctantly, casting a sidelong glance at Tobias. He seemed to have become more withdrawn. He was staring glumly into his empty goblet. She realized abruptly that Draco was talking.

"...and then he fell right off his... Arpazia?" Draco was once again playing the spoiled rich boy role, and he seemed all together offended that she had not been paying attention. He then smiled, self depreciatingly (from the smugness on his face she figured it was a seldom used expression).

"Oh, forgive me. You must be starving." As he said this, the plates before them filled to the brim with mounds of food. Tobias jumped slightly as his goblet filled with pumpkin juice. Before Arpazia could praise Draco for his marvelous trick, however, she noted that Professor Dumbledore had just sat down, and that the other teachers were nodding appreciatively at him. All of the tables had been covered with food, as the feast had commenced, and Draco had merely timed his words well. Nonetheless, it was clever, and she smiled in his direction. He blushed furiously, and fumbled for a plate.

"Would you like a treacle tart?" He inquired. Arpazia blinked at the thick brown mass and suppressed a sneer.

"A what?"

Draco levered one onto his plate and smiled. "It's a treacle tart." He took a bite and shook his head. "What do you eat in America?"

She laughed suddenly. For a brief moment she had forgotten that she was in a foreign country. Homesickness clanged in her empty stomach, but she pushed the thought away by shoveling some of the unappetizing pastry onto her own plate. "Hamburgers... French-fries. Chocolate cake." She shrugged, prodding the food item with her spoon. "Not... treacle whatever."

Draco grinned toothily. "You crazy yanks."

She waved a lazy hand in his direction. "Wacky Brits."

This time Draco smiled broadly at her, an easy, genuine smile.

"I really am glad you're in Slytherin. I'll be able to see you- see that you don't get lost. I'll give you a tour if you'd like. I know this castle like the back of my hand." He looked slightly flushed, and he made as if he was greatly occupied with his food, taking another bite from the tart as his pink-tinged cheeks cooled down. Arpazia gingerly tasted a slice of meat, and thankfully found it familiar. She then went about trying everything, quite pleased with most of what she picked, although she found the butter beer to be sickeningly sweet, far too cloying for her taste. She chatted with Draco disjointedly as they ate, glancing at Tobias every now and again. He had not touched his food. Strangely neither had the other American student, Krislan Brask. She was staring at the staff table, perhaps inspecting her future assistee. One of her long braids was dipping idly into her soup, but she didn't seem to notice.

When Draco found out she knew next to nothing of Harry Potter he laughed so hard that he nearly choked on a piece of potato.

"I think I'd like America. Nice place it seems, if they don't pay homage to that foolish git." He said after he recovered, his laughter renewed at the thought of an entire country in which Harry did not have a chapter in every textbook. Arpazia didn't think he was being entirely honest. Aside from Quidditch, and his fathers interesting work at the Ministry, Harry Potter was all he talked of, despite everything being in a rather poor light. Arpazia had no time to comment on this, as there was a tremendous crash, and the door to the hall banged open. A large man bustled in, and at first Arpazia thought him to be Hagrid, but on closer inspection he was a good deal smaller, and of a different color.

"That'll be Professor Boar." Draco drawled indifferently at her questioning expression. "My father told me about him. He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." His voice was laden with disdain as Professor Boar slammed down next to a thin, black haired teacher and began talking boisterously, much to the aforementioned professor's chagrin. "He won't last 'til Christmas."

Confused, she turned her attention back to him. "What do you mean?"

"We haven't had a Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher last more than a year since I've been here." He nodded to Professor Boar. "That one won't even last a whole semester, I'd wager."

"Have you given them a chance?" Arpazia jumped at Tobias' near whisper voice. He was regarding them coolly, his dark blue eyes expressionless. "Perhaps they'd stay longer."

Draco blinked at him. "Are you mad? Half of them have been complete loonies. The only sane one turned out to be a werewolf. You see, some are just doomed to fail, while others can't help but succeed. It's simple logic. We'll get a stayer sooner or later. But it won't be that man, I can guarantee that."

Tobias didn't respond. He seemed to be measuring Draco up mentally, and his gaze was more than a little penetrating. Arpazia poked at her plate.

Students were now standing and milling about, some vanishing through the door to go to their dormitories. Tobias stood as well. "Goodnight, Draco, Arpazia." And he strode away.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Blimey, he's strange." He shrugged the whole situation away however, standing himself. "Come on. I'll show you the way to our common room."

Arpazia lifted her rat's cage and followed him out of the dining hall.

~

Krislan stood in the now empty main hall, breathing in and out slowly.

-Mustn't overheat. Mustn't panic.-

She had carried herself quite well during the sorting ceremony, appearing just a tad nervous, but now she was downright frightened. Where to go, what to do?

It all came rushing at her in a jumble of memories. She had arrived on Hogwarts grounds at a reasonable hour and... No, not important. It was... yes! Her Wizarding Apprentice status. That was what mattered. She dug one slim hand into her long uniform pocket and retrieved a single sheet of parchment.

You will be assisting...

Professor Severus Snape

Potions Master

Class: Magical Drafts and Potions (Potions)

Meet with the teacher to discuss your schedule.

Items

Black Dragon-Hide Gloves

One large pewter cauldron

A knowledge of the lay-out in Hogsmeade

Magical Drafts and Potions: Teacher's Guide

See the caretaker Mr. Filch for missing supplies

If you have any further questions, contact Minerva McGonagall.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

So that was that.

Krislan sighed, brushing her mousy brown hair out of her eyes. She suddenly felt very lonely. Her footsteps echoed hollowly as she walked out of the main hall. Somewhere deep in the castle, she could hear people laughing, but she didn't know where.

She wouldn't fit in with them anyway. She simply had a job to do. That was it. She wasn't the average Hogwarts student, giggling the days away between visits to rooms full of smiling, familiar faces. She had only two classes to speak of, Divination, and Care Of Magical Creatures, and the Slytherin house had not seemed like the friendliest lot.

Not that it mattered.

"I don't need friends." She said aloud. "I'm alone."

It was an odd way to act, but it was realistic. Krislan was different. A voice spoke up behind her.

"Of course you need friends, love."

She whirled around, long braids flying, but was met with an empty hall. She had migrated to the second floor while she was thinking, but it was empty, all of the doors shut.

"The wall, love." The voice said again. She blinked. It was a painting of a kind old witch under a tree. She had an apple in hand, and a book on her lap, but was facing Krislan. "I don't like to hear students talking like that." The old witch said.

"But it's the truth." Krislan said, and then the faintest flicker of cunning flashed across her face. She smiled. "I guess you're right though. Everyone has the chance to friends. It's part of what school's about." She amended. The old witch looked delighted.

"That's correct! Very good. My name is Maddie. If you ever feel down, come have a chat with me. But if you'll excuse me... I have lunch with the Centaur painting on the fifth floor." And she stood, and walked out of the painting.

Krislan blinked several times before going on her way. The sound of voices was closer now, and she stopped, turning away from it. No sense in unnecessary complications. She would go find this 'Severus Snape'. There was nothing else she could accomplish in this short time before classes began.

Author's Note: Ooh, STILL reading? My my... ^_^ Please review.