When Minerva thought back to her own Sorting Ceremony, she remembered no nerves at all. Her older brother teased her about it a little, but after a few pointed looks from their mother, assured her that there was nothing to worry about. She sat on the train riddled with anticipation, barely chatting with her new friends in order to keep her focus. Gryffindor was her focus. She was quite sure no other house suited her, except perhaps Ravenclaw. Even at eleven, Minerva proved herself to be a highly intelligent young witch. However, that house was not in the cards for her. As she watched her new peers join each of the four houses, she confidently strolled up and allowed a young (younger, anyhow) professor Dumbledore to place the Sorting Hat on her head. It didn't say much to her, though it made a rather obscure roar in her head before it boisterously announced Minerva McGonagall belonged in the Gryffindor house. She assumed it was making a lion's roar, but it did seem a little silly. Each to their own with the Hat, she guessed. The ceremony was painless, and the feast that followed afterward was delicious. Everything about that night had been perfect for her, but now that she was a professor, she understood that not everyone felt that same level of excitement.
Last year, there were a number of students who were wracked with fear. She didn't speak to many of them, aside from giving them directions about where to line up, but the expressions on their faces weren't hard to miss. She wanted to reassure them that nothing would happen, but this was a learning experience too. If she coddled them the moment they stepped into the castle, that would set the tone for their first year. They would expect their professor to swoop in when times were tough, and Minerva wasn't going to be the one on the staff to set that bar. Naturally, there were certain members of the teaching staff, and those outside it, that were more than happy to act as a shoulder to cry on should the year get tough. For the first years, this consisted mainly of home sickness, while students in their final year ran on stress. Minerva found herself preferential to those in their upper years, only because they had conquered all the little fears that came with the process of schooling, while the eleven year olds were only just getting their feet wet. As brave as these little ones could be, she wasn't about to brush away their tears and invite them in for a cuddle. It wasn't in her personality to do so, and she wasn't going to start just because she saw a few terrified faces.
Last year, Minerva felt as though her leading the Sorting Ceremony was an initiation into the staff team in front of the students. This year, she did it with an ulterior motive in mind. Without Dumbledore's full trust, Minerva questioned Riddle's ability to interact with students. Although she had very little student experience before she started teaching, but Dumbledore had full faith that she would be a natural. In fact, most of the members of the Hogwarts staff were naturals at behaving effectively in front of their pupils. Sure, some had their odd personality quirks that made them a little trying sometimes; Binns refused to believe that time carried on after he died, and taught his lessons as such. Minerva didn't want to place Riddle in a certain category in her head without giving him a little bit of a chance, and this was what tonight was going to be.
Now, this wouldn't be the first time she had seen him since their initial meeting. The staff had about a week after Minerva arrived to get everything in the castle ready, and as per tradition, usually ate their evening meals together in the Great Hall. Occasionally it was in the staff room, if a few members were gone for a couple of days and their numbers were fewer. The very first night, Minerva fully expected the somewhat irritable Tom Riddle to remain in his office, or eat down in the kitchens. However, the very first night he joined them in the Great Hall. He sat at the end, next to Slughorn, his eyes cast down, and barely spoke with any of the staff. Not that Minerva was overly talkative during meal times, but she had missed everyone during the summer, and it was a great chance to catch up. He might have been a shy man, or an arrogant snob who thought he was above the rest of them. For now, they would just have to see which persona presented itself.
They stood side by side at the top of the staircase directly across from the doors to the Great Hall. The train arrived nearly a full hour ago, precisely on the hour, and the majority of the upper year students were already seated inside. She and Riddle manned the doors for their entrance, a small smile on her face as returning students greeted her. They cast Riddle some apprehensive looks, along with the occasional nod, but he kept his face impassive. She couldn't fault him for that, mind you. Some people weren't bubbly, and not everyone could be Pomona Sprout with the students. Once they were all inside, the pair shut the giant double doors magically, and all sound was suddenly cut off, leaving them alone in the silent hallway.
Tonight, she really looked like the professor she wanted to be. As soon as the semester started, her lengthy dark auburn hair was up in a tight bun, occasionally a ponytail, and it wouldn't come down until the Christmas holiday. She might have been a young professor, but she certainly wasn't about to dress like one. Along with the bun came her usual hat, a wide-brimmed witch's hat, black, with a peacock feather on top. The feather was only for special occasions, and some of the colours in it matched wonderfully with her dark green and black robes. Giant sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a full skirt; it was quite the typical outfit for Minerva, but the feather, in her opinion, made it a little special. Riddle also appeared to have dressed up for the ceremony, but only slightly. He had a pair of black slacks on, accompanied by a white shirt and a dark green vest with the Slytherin coat of arms on it. When she commented earlier in the night, he explained it was in the family crest, and he saw no reason why he couldn't wear it. However, he made up for it by covering the majority of his outfit with a black cloak, also with monstrous sleeves.
They were all the rage in the wizarding world, those giant sleeves, and Minerva wondered if they played too much into the Muggle vision of witches and wizards. However, fashion trends were just that; trends. Next year, it would be something different. She glanced down at her slim wristwatch, and then peered down the staircase, leaning ever so slightly to her left to see if the doors had opened yet. The first years took the boats to the castle, and used a different entrance than the rest of their peers. It always took a little longer to get everyone sorted, and they made them wait deliberately to give everyone else time to settle in.
"Now," Minerva started, although she almost didn't feel the need to ask, "would you like to call the names, or place the Hat on their heads?"
He stared blankly down the staircase, and only after a moment shot her a look with those yellowing eyes, an easily readable expression in them. Minerva, however, wasn't one to put up with a snarky attitude, especially from her colleagues, and raised her eyebrows challengingly. With a sigh, he seemed to relax a little, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour, "I'll leave the name calling to you."
"Very well," she remarked, retuning her gaze down the stairwell, "but you'll need to look a little less menacing when they approach you. You look like you'd rather light someone on fire than put a hat on their head."
"I wasn't aware that was an option," he said pleasantly, making her frown. It took her a second or so to realize that might just be his sense of humour, but she said nothing in regards to it.
"I'm not asking you to be all smiles," Minerva added after a pregnant pause. "Merlin knows that's a feat I certainly cannot pull off… but you need to remember they're only eleven. Some freedoms are given tonight."
But only for tonight. They may have been eleven, but once her lessons started, they better not act their age, or they would face the consequences quickly.
"I am more than aware of what is necessary for this duty," Tom remarked, sounding somewhat insulted that she was lecturing him. "I have no intentions of hexing any of them, I can promise you that."
"Well… We'll see once they arrive," she mused as she spotted the lights of the first year boats through a nearby window. "They are rather rambunctious when they first get into the castle."
"Something I'm sure you won't let them get away with."
"No," she commented, holding her head high, "I won't."
There was nothing wrong with his comment, per say, but it made Minerva a little on edge. This entire time, she assumed that she was the one watching Tom Riddle. She wanted to learn his mannerisms, his habits… everything. However, it did not occur to her for one second that he might be doing the same thing. Not that one needed much insight to figure out Minerva had a low tolerance for loud silliness, but she decided from now on she would watch her actions around him. It was something she should have done from the start, but it took a few days to really gauge his perceptiveness.
The pair could hear their new arrivals before they were through the doors. Minerva braced herself for the onslaught of students. A quick glance at her companion made her smirk; he looked so unhappy. However, if he wanted to teach, he needed to do everything that encompassed being a professor, not just lectures in a classroom. She was quite sure there would be much more this year that would displease him.
The noise from the docks grew louder, and Minerva clasped her hands together neatly in front of her, face calm, eyes fixated on the door. Suddenly, it flew open, bold as brass, and in marched the first group of her new pupils. They all seemed so little, especially after watching the older teens settle in for nearly an hour. Similar to last year, none of them really noticed she was standing there until they were halfway up the staircase, but once they saw her, they settled right down. Well, the ones at the front did, anyway. The ones at the back were still too far away to realize two professors were watching them with four keen eyes.
"Your attention, please," Minerva instructed, raising her voice enough to carry over the sea of eleven years olds. "Form an orderly line in front of me, two at a time, and we will begin."
She watched as they bustled about in front of her, some a little hesitant to leave their group of friends and stand beside a stranger. Tom casually marched down the staircase beside them, saying nothing, but a look managed to get a few of the noisier ones in place faster than her glares did. So he was going to be one of those professors; the ones who could silence a room with a mere look, or a change in voice intonation. They were, in her opinion, always the most interesting. When the chatter settled, Tom joined her at the top of the staircase, still silent, acting only as a presence of control. For a moment, she actually felt like he made this whole process a little easier. Last year, it took much longer to settle the students down.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she started when the final students at the back quieted down. "I am Professor McGonagall, and this is Professor Riddle."
She motioned to Tom, who merely raised his eyebrow slightly in acknowledgement to all the eyes on him. A few looked very nervous.
"We will be two professors you will deal with until your fifth year, so I suggest you gets used to our faces," Minerva explained, running on the assumption that Riddle wasn't a complete screw-up who would be gone within the month. "For now, we will be leading you into the Sorting Ceremony. I can assure you now that you have nothing to worry about-"
The woman had only a few more words for her speech, but she was interrupted by the sound of a sneeze. The little blond girl who stood directly in front of Tom sneezed noisily all of a sudden, right onto the front of his robes. For half a second, she was frozen, torn between the urge to laugh at the flash of rage on his face, and the urge to carry on as though nothing had happened. Everything was deathly quiet, and the girl looked absolutely terrified as Riddle slowly looked down to examine whatever mess may be waiting on the front of his cloak. At that point, for the girl's sanity if anything, Minerva decided it was best to just continue as though nothing had happened.
"The ceremony itself is painless," she finished curtly. "Best of luck to all of you. Your future houses are very excited to receive you."
When she looked back at Riddle, he still seemed utterly enraged that the girl dared sneeze on him, but a light touch on the arm as she turned back toward the hall seemed to snap him out of it. He fell into pace beside her, a stony expression on his face. It was a feeling Minerva could actually understand; she wouldn't have been very happy if someone sneezed on her. In fact, she probably would have reacted with a similar expression at first, though perhaps more disgusted than enraged. She planned to inform Dumbledore of the reaction, and insist that they watch his temper as the year commences. Students were very trying, even at the best of times, but one couldn't lose their patience with them at the drop of a hat. Mistakes could be corrected, and perhaps punished appropriately, but one needed to learn boundaries. Minerva learned a lot over her first year of teaching, but a lot of that wisdom came from her experiences in school as a pupil; she had always been very observant.
The doors to the Great Hall swung open dramatically just as she noticed Tom haphazardly dusting off the front of his robes, and all eyes in the hall turned toward them. The chattering quieted almost instantly, and Minerva grinned a little as they led the new students down the center of the long tables. She could see the Sorting Hat atop its designated chair directly in front of her. A quick look over her shoulder for only a moment made her grin grow as the new students pointed at the enchanted ceiling, no doubt fascinated with the way the night sky appeared above them.
As she drew closer to the front of the room, she made quick eye contact with Albus. The headmaster was seated in his usual chair in the middle of the staff table, and although he wore his usual relaxed expression, something was a little off with it. She quirked an eyebrow only a touch, but refused to let her suspicions of his moods throw her off. As she stepped up two little stairs, ones that separated the ground floor with the staff area, she held up a hand to stop the new students from following her.
"Wait here, if you will," she ordered pointedly, making a few that had gone too far step back hastily. "Now, when I call you name, please come forward. Professor Riddle will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and it will sort you into your house."
She turned back and accepted the scroll from Tom, which had been resting under the famed Sorting Hat, and then quickly unrolled it. There was quite a long list this year, and she wondered if Hogwarts was starting to invite more students, or parents felt it was time for more youngsters to receive a formal education. All magical children born in the United Kingdom would get a letter in the mail when the time was right, but many parents thought it better to homeschool their children, a distinct lack of faith in the magical school system. Funny, but it apparently some couldn't understand how important it was to get formal, necessary training to become a functional adult witch or wizard. Some things in this world were just ridiculous.
Taking a deep breath, she called the first name, completely unconcerned if she butchered it. Her Scottish accent was enough to mangle some of them on occasion, but no one had ever complained. A curly-haired boy stepped up, his face exceptionally white, and hesitantly took a seat on the stool. Tom stared down at him for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he ought to put the hat on his head, and then finally did so. It took less than thirty seconds for the Hat to decide that this boy belonged in Hufflepuff, and she smiled kindly as the table erupted with cheers. Tom seemed unimpressed, if anything, and a bored expression passed across his face as she called for the next person.
The ceremony lasted a full ten minutes, mostly because of the sheer number of students they needed to get through, and the rowdy cheers each student got from their new house grew longer as time passed. During the entire ritual, the only time Tom seemed remotely interested was when a student was sorted into the Slytherin house. She stared in his direction with the pretence of watching her new student, all the while keeping a steady eye on him. When students had the Slytherin title associated with them, his eyes followed their retreating figure back to the table, and for a split second, he seemed proud. It was difficult to tell, as she didn't know him well enough in the slightest to read his emotions, but if she could guess his demeanour, it would have been pride for his old house. Another thing she would need to remind him; professors may be biased in sporting events, but they had to do their utmost to ensure they were fair everywhere else.
When the final student took a seat at the Ravenclaw table, Dumbledore led one final round of applause to welcome the new students. Minerva cast away the Hat and its stool with a flick of her wand, and soon joined the rest of the staff in her seat next to the headmaster. Tom also sauntered back to the large table, but fell into a chair next to Hagrid, who seemed extremely uncomfortable with his presence. Riddle merely smirked, and she watched out of the corner of her eye as he fiddled with pieces of silverware.
"He should have led the ceremony," Dumbledore whispered, making her flinch out of her sleuthing, "but we will discuss it later."
Minerva blinked, and for a moment her serene expression faltered. Had he just scolded her? As far as she was concerned, she had done nothing wrong. Although Riddle did not actively lead the ceremony, she managed to obtain a few very insightful glimpses into his persona, and the way he handled himself around students. From where she sat, Minerva had done exactly as Dumbledore asked. He, however, seemed to think differently.
Dumbledore rose from his seat, arms wide, and spoke loud enough to begin his first speech of the term. She had every intention of listening clearly, but she lost focus for a moment. It felt as if someone was watching her. Naturally, there were hundreds of pairs of eyes in the hall, but when she glanced down the table, she noticed Tom gazing in her direction from behind Slughorn's back. When their eyes met, he looked away slowly, his expression neither menacing nor interested… Just neutral.
He was a curious fellow, this Tom Riddle. Minerva shifted uncomfortably, released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, and turned her attention back to Dumbledore where it rightfully belonged.