A/N;
To all those who left a review on the last chapter. Your input is truly appreciated! Anyway, we finally get to the Sorting Hat and learn her House.
I hope you approve?
I have done one section from Tom's POV. I wasn't happy with it but I have left it. Do you want more from Tom's POV? Or less? Let me know in the comments. Thank you.
…...
Who's Been Playing With Dark Magic?
Once the first years had followed Silvanus Kettleburn out of the station, it was the rest of the students turn to leave the train. Tom stayed at the door he held, letting his thoughts drift as students passed him by.
The boy who'd helped Buffy from the train, Caradoc Dearborn, who was he? How long had they known each other? In his mind's eye, he saw the way Buffy had glowed with happiness as she'd reached out and taken Dearborn's hand. Unknowingly, Tom let out an involuntary hiss in parseltongue that had no real human equivalent but roughly translated as anger, betrayal and loss.
Realising his magic had begun to gather inside him along with the need to hex something, Tom drew in a deep breath and breathed out slowly. Magic tingled along his arm and his hand twitched. Control, he needed control. He couldn't afford to let the little witch's traitorous behaviour set him back. Instead, he turned his thoughts to the new name she went by, Lovegood-Summers. That was a name he hadn't come across during his research on wizarding families, but it had been chosen for a reason. Tom knew there was a British wizarding family called Lovegood. There was one in his year in Ravenclaw, an introverted oddball called Lovell Lovegood. Was Buffy related to him? It didn't seem possible that someone as outgoing and brazenly determined to have her own way could be related to the shy loner he saw occasionally in the corridor.
Buffy had mentioned living in Devon in her letter with an uncle and cousin. Did the Lovegoods live in Devon? Tom wasn't sure, but in the letter there was another telling sentence, one he had no difficulty calling to mind as he'd tried to make sense of it so many times.
"He's invited me to live with him and his son (his wife died a while ago) until Mom gets better. So... new relatives. (I hope that is another yay and they aren't all too weird!)"
Weird. That certainly described Lovell Lovegood. If so, Buffy's ill mother must be Lovell's aunt, and she'd left Britain and the Wizarding world behind to marry a Muggle. Tom snorted softly. It was uncomprehending why anyone would exchange a magical life for a mundane one. At least she'd had the brains to keep her birth name and add it to her husband's in case any of their offspring were magical. No doubt, Buffy would make good use of her mother's connections to ease her way into the British Wizarding world.
Tom was so lost in thought, he didn't notice most of the students had left until Septimus Longbottom, the Head boy, put a hand onto his shoulder.
"You can stand down now, Riddle. Our train duties are over," Longbottom said with an easy smile.
Fighting not to wrench his shoulder from under the other boy's hand, Tom managed a small nod in acknowledgement. He watched Longbottom walk along the platform, pausing to speak to the few other prefects and students remaining on the platform and noting each affable smile and gesture the Head boy bestowed on them. To do so would grate on Tom's nerves but if he was to achieve his goal of becoming Head Boy in two years, he'd needed to ape the behaviour of other Head boys. If he acted correctly in public view even Dumbledore wouldn't find anything to criticise him for.
He left the station and stood at the top of the walkway, searching each carriage in the long line for his housemates. There was a crowd of students milling around, but he eventually spotted Malfoy's white-blonde hair gleaming in the light of the lanterns. Tom made his way towards him, and Malfoy gave him a cocky grin, slanting a meaningful look at the two pretty Hufflepuff girls he was flattering.
Tom shook his head - not interested. The fifth year was an important year for all students and, with the OWLS exams coming up, he'd no intention of wasting valuable study time chasing skirts with Malfoy. If Malfoy failed his OWLs no doubt his father, who was on the Board Of Governors, would quietly arrange for him to retake them and nothing more would be said. If a penniless orphan failed his exams, he'd be expelled in disgrace.
"I'll leave the field to you," Tom said quietly as he passed Malfoy to enter the carriage.
"You don't know what your missing, Riddle," Malfoy muttered out the side of his mouth with a sly look.
Tom snorted, he knew what he was missing, but there were other more important things to spend his time and energy on.
Victor Avery, Tobias Nott, and Taric Mulcibar were already inside the carriage, and Tom greeted each boy before sitting back against the leather seat squabs and falling into silence. The other boys knew him well enough to leave him alone and spoke quietly as the carriages rolled along the twisting lanes. When the carriage reached a certain bend in the lane, Tom leant forward, never tiring of the first moment the magnificent castle came into sight. His magic tingled beneath his skin as the school grew closer. This was the place he'd learned about magic for the past four years, the only place he held any affection for.
The carriage slowed as they crossed the bridge and out on the lake, a group of small lights from the Hogwarts boats bobbed up and down on the currents. They were the Hogwarts boats, sailing the new students to the castle. Tom remembered the sense of awe he'd felt as the magical boat carried him across the lake. Would Buffy feel the same? Would her face light up in wonder at her first glimpse of Hogwarts Castle?
He gave himself a little shake. Why should he care what Buffy thought of Hogwarts? She wasn't a friend. He didn't need or want anything more to do with her.
To drive away any further errant thoughts, he asked his companions, "Did anything exciting happen over the summer?"
He doubted it. From the snatches of the conversation he'd overheard so far, Nott had discussed advances in potion work and Malfoy Quidditch League scores.
On the opposite side of the carriage, Mulcibar spoke first. "Uncle's visited in a flap all summer. One of Grindelwald's most trusted wizards has disappeared. He says even Grindelwald's looking for him. No one knows if Von Kendrick is dead, laying low, or if the Inter-Aurors have captured him."
The carriage slowed and came to a stop. They waited for the other carriages to discharge their occupants before their carriage crept forward.
"Von Kendrick..." Tom repeated. The name was becoming increasingly familiar. It was the name of the man who'd carried out the attack Buffy had been in. "Malfoy..." he began.
The pink-cheeked Pureblood looked at him warily. "My Lord?"
"Do you have the information I asked for?"
Desperately trying to remember what Tom had asked him for, Malfoy asked tentatively, "Is it about the try-outs for the Slytherin Quidditch Team? I'm thinking of holding them next week."
"Why would I want to know about the Quidditch team?" Tom hissed. He disliked Quidditch and only pretended an interest to fit in with others and make the right impression with the teachers.
"Um, I'm not sure," replied Malfoy twitched nervously in his seat. "Do you want to be on the team? I'll give you any position you'd like."
Tom gave a derisive snort. "I shall leave that honour to worthier players than me. When we were in Diagon Alley, I asked you to find out about the Grindelwald attack in London. Remember?"
"Oh, that!" Malfoy looked relieved. "I got that report from father's study ages ago. It's in my trunk."
"Good. I'll want to read it later."
"How did the Muggle baiting go?" Avery asked suddenly. "Did the girl leave?"
"No, the boggart did," replied Tom shortly, his thoughts circling back to Buffy once again. Had Buffy used a devious form of magic to rid herself of it? Or had she told him the truth about amnesia? If she had the boggart must have wandered off of its own accord.
Their group entered the castle, Tom walking alongside Malfoy, with Mulcibar and Avery directly behind them, and Nott trailing at the rear. Tom ignored the other students dawdling in the corridors and headed straight for the Great Hall.
"What do you know about Buffy?" Tom asked Malfoy, taking care to keep his voice low and casual. Malfoy had to know the American witch. On platform 9 and 3/4s he'd been all over her like dragon pox rash.
"Buffet? " Malfoy replied, screwing his face up with confusion at the odd question. "What do you want to know? I've been to several this year. Which one do you need information on? Or are you planning on hosting one?"
Tom regarded him steadily. "The witch Buffy Summers," he remembered Kettleburn's addition, "Buffy Lovegood-Summers."
Malfoy looked blank.
"The girl who's trolley almost crashed into the rails in front of the engine. You were talking to her on the platform in London."
Malfoy shrugged. "Is her name Buffet? What were her parents thinking of, lumbering her with a name like that?"
Tom gazed at Malfoy and allowed a touch of irritation into his expression.
Abraxus Malfoy twitched. "I'd never seen her before. I was just telling Bernard Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindor idiots how we're going to thrash them this year when the Yank came through the barrier, screaming that she couldn't stop. We ran to help her - a tiny thing like that had no chance against the jinxed trolley."
"If she's American she's probably transferred from Ilvermorny," Avery added. "I noticed Caradoc Dearborn is here this year too. He went to Durmstrang. I met him and his parents in Paris last year."
"He's from Grindelwald's school?" Tom thought the boy needed hexing for that fact alone. They taught the Dark Arts there, unlike at Hogwarts where they only studied defence against it. Tom thought the decision not to teach the Dark Arts was a poor one and one he'd rectify immediately if he was headmaster.
He beckoned his knights closer as they entered the Great Hall. "Avery, Mulcibar, find out everything you can about the two new transfer students. I don't like the fact Dearborn is from Durmstrang. I'll call a meeting to discuss what you've discovered in a few days."
The group made their way to the Slytherin table which was set beneath their House's green and silver banner. Most of the students were already at the tables and the place was buzzed with excited chatter. Tom passed the older Slytherins at the head of the table, the sixth form below them until they reached the section of the table where the fifth years sat. Out of habit, Tom glanced up as he slid into his seat beside Malfoy and Avery. Above him, a thousand candles floated underneath the enchanted ceiling and he noted the overcast sky, with no sign of the moon or stars showing through the thick banking of clouds.
As he was watching the ceiling, Penelope Parkinson leaned across the table and touched his hand. "Have a good summer, Riddle?" she asked and giggled.
Tom pulled his hand away and dropped his head, regarding her from under lidded eyes hiding a gleam of dislike. He'd already seen Dorothea Parkinson, Penelope's sixth form cousin, making cow eyes as he'd walked past her. Now the younger Parkinson demanded his attention.
"Tolerable," he replied refusing to elaborate. Another summer survived at a Muggle orphanage surrounded by dreary Muggle children and an abusive custodian. Not that he'd tell her any of that. Aware etiquette demanded he'd ask about her summer, he grudgingly did so.
Penelope played with her empty goblet and pouted. "Awful. Mummy and I were supposed to enjoy the summer in France but father decided against it. He said that with all the Muggle fighting and Grindelwald's dislike of Paris it was too dangerous for us."
"Bad luck," replied Tom, disinterestedly. He turned away and glanced over to the head table and the empty chairs where the teachers sat. Headmaster Dippet was already sat in his chair talking to Professor Merrythought, but Dumbledore's chair was empty. That was odd. The Transfiguration professor was always early for the Sorting feast, where was he?
…...
After being pulled from the water, Buffy lay on her back, staring up at Caradoc's anxious face and the darkness above him.
Memories slid through her mind of a candlelit cavern and another teenage boy's worried face hovering over her. Where was Xander? Shouldn't he be here? Had she fought the Master? Was she dead?
"How do you feel?" the golden Apollo asked, bringing her sharply into the present.
"Am I dead?"
"No."
"Then I'm just peachy," replied Buffy who felt nothing of the sort. She sat up, her drenched clothes clinging to her body, and pushed away strands of soaking wet hair that fell into her eyes.
They were in a room hewn from rock, the boats they'd sailed in were tied up at a dock and, over on the other side of the cavern, the rest of the first-year students waited by a flight of stone steps. Some of those first years stared at her, others watched something or someone behind Caradoc.
"How's Rigel, is he...?" She let the question hang, not wanting to finish it in case she jinxed him.
Caradoc didn't reply, he stepped to one side. Rigel lay a short distance away with his eyes closed and face tinged with blue. Dumbledore lifted the boy's shoulders, cradling him in his arms as a nurse poured drops of silver liquid into Rigel's mouth. The drops had barely touched his tongue before Rigel's eyes opened and he lurched forward. Dumbledore held on to his shoulders as the boy coughed, retched, and threw up a mixture of lake water and his last meal.
The sour smell of vomit reached Buffy's nose. She swallowed and tried not to gag.
"She must have used a Revive and Invigorate potion," Caradoc murmured. "A very strong one. Rigel was in a bad way when we pulled him from the water. Luckily, when you didn't return with the rest of the boats, Kettleburn cast a Patronus to alert Professor Dumbledore and Madam Bones. If he hadn't he might not have made it."
A Patronus? Buffy wondered what kind of spell that was and decided to look it up. She watched as the nurse perform a long series of complicated movements with her wand. A series of golden runes appeared in the air over a coughing Rigel. Buffy recognised the runes for heart, air and blood, but they faded long before she could make sense of them.
Whatever it was the healer had read in them appeared to please her. She spoke quietly to Dumbledore, who in turn looked relieved.
"They look hopeful," began Caradoc slowly, "I think that-."
"How yer feelin'?" Kettleburn interrupted. He'd brought over Buffy's belongings that she'd left in the boat. "Yer, not gonna be sick, are yer? You look peaky."
"I'm fine." Buffy reassured him, guessing from the way her hair was plastered to her head and her clothing dripped that she looked a mess. "I didn't swallow any lake water," she went on, "so no projectile vomiting from me. You're all safe from the flying Buffy spew."
She must have spoken too loudly, Madam Bones she stopped fussing around Rigel and looked up, her eyes narrowing speculatively on Buffy.
Buffy's eyes widened. "Oh, no... No way." She recognised that look. It was the one medics gave her before inviting her to an overnight stay in hospital along with a few series of needle insertions. Deciding that wasn't going to happen, Buffy rose, soggily, to her feet and pasted on a perky smile. With luck, the nurse would find an easier victim to practise her needlework skills on.
Surprisingly though, it wasn't the nurse who came over it was Dumbledore. The bearded wizard regarded her with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "Miss Summers, you have a propensity for taking people by surprise. I shouldn't have expected anything less from you than a dramatic entrance."
Buffy shivered and gave him a dark look. Did he think half drowning was amusing? Dramatic entrance? She looked a total mess and water was pouring off her in rivulets. A sarcastic reply sprang to her tongue, but she bit it back and asked, instead, "How's Rigel?"
That question killed the amusement in his eyes. "Ah, the poor boy has had a nasty shock..."
A total understatement thought Buffy. He'd almost been drowned by lake demons.
"Thankfully," continued Dumbledore, "Madam Bones says she's confident that after a stay in our hospital wing he'll make a full recovery. She wants you to come along too."
"I'm fine... I don't -," began Buffy, her teeth letting her down by chattering.
"You'll do as yer told, young Miss!" barked Kettleburn. "I can see Grindylow bites on yer arms! I told yer before we set off. I said, 'no messin about'. Look what happens as soon as I turn around! Two of yer almost drownin' an' bein' eaten in the lake."
"I wasn't... fooling around!" Buffy protested, wishing her teeth would stop chattering. Why was it so cold? Was Scotland always like this? "Rigel fell overboard and I dived in to help him! I don't want to go to the hospital for a few demon bites."
Dumbledore drew his wand and pointed at her. Buffy eyed it warily. Didn't he believe she'd rescued Rigel? Or was he simply going to march her at wandpoint to the hospital wing?
"A drying and warming spell will help you, Miss Summers. If I may?" Dumbledore asked. At her nod, he used abbreviated wand movements and cast a spell on her. "I'm surprised you haven't already used them," he admonished gently. "I taught all about Ventus and Tergeo charms this summer."
Buffy bit her lip. "Um, yeah. I forgot about magic and being a witch," she replied truthfully. She lowered her eyes, striving to act the part of a shy yet eager magic student, but not quite willing to meet Dumbledore's eyes whilst she did it.
"Is it okay if I go to the hospital later?" she asked. "I don't want to miss wearing the magical hat and finding out my House. Isn't that more important than a few scratches? It's not as if I'll die if I put it off until after the Sorting."
Maybe she wouldn't go to the infirmary at all. She could sneak away, find the owlery, and send a message to her Mom warning her about Von Kendrick. Thanks to her spill in the lake, the letter she'd written was now a soggy mess in the bottom of her robe pocket and she'd need to write a new one.
Buffy risked a glance up at Dumbledore, who watched her with an unreadable expression. "I could go after the hat has sorted me into my House and I've met the other students? I don't want to miss out..." Buffy brazenly met the wizards all-too-knowing blue eyes and added, "I might be lucky enough to become a Gryffindor - like you."
"Hmmph," Dumbledore didn't look at all convinced by her acting. However, Buffy took it as a small victory when he added, "I shall ask Walburga Black to escort you to the Infirmary once the feast is over. I believe the Black family owe you a big thank you for saving the life of one of their own."
…..
The Sorting Hat
The black-haired Professor McGonagall hurried the new students past the main staircase to a set of double doors, calling, "Come along now, we're running dreadfully late!"
At the rear of the group, Buffy and Caradoc watched with fascination as doors swung open to reveal the Hogwart's Great Hall. Inside the beamed and cavernous space, students sat on each side of the four long tables, empty plates and dishes set before them. As Minerva McGonagall walked along the central aisle, in between two sets of tables, Buffy followed the other students at the same time trying to spot her cousin's face amongst the sea of faces.
She was so busy focussing on the Ravenclaw table that when the trio of students in front of her stopped with a loud shriek, Caradoc grabbed Buffy to stop her from barrelling into them. The pearly-white ghost of a Tudor lady hovered directly in front of the three first years.
Caradoc gave Buffy a sidelong look and then nodded towards the ceiling. "Look up there. That's far more interesting than the castle ghosts."
Buffy didn't think it could be more interesting than the ghosts, but she obediently looked upwards. For a moment, Buffy thought the hall was roofless, for the bewitched ceiling showed the night sky currently over the castle. It looked as if it might rain later.
The magical ceiling was definitely cool, but it was the thousands of lighted candles that held her attention. She leaned closer to Caradoc and whispered, "I hope none of the candle wax drops onto our heads."
Caradoc's face lit up with a smile. "I believe they're charmed not to drip, otherwise they'd have a lot of scalded pupils complaining at mealtimes."
"That would make the nurse happy." The visit to Hogwarts hospital wing was still on Buffy's mind.
"Ahem," Professor McGonagall glared over the top of the first-years at the two of them. Once she had silence, she placed a four-legged stool onto the floor in front of the teacher's table. Then took a weather-beaten wizard's hat from the top table and placed it onto the stool.
Everyone stared at the dirty hat, including the teachers sat at the high table. Buffy scanned their faces. The old, bearded guy in the big chair must be the Headmaster, on one side of him sat Dumbledore and on the other an elderly witch with a heavily lined face. Of the other teachers, only a woman draped in colourful shawls, a man that looked like a beardless dwarf, and a fat, balding man in a brown suit stood out to Buffy.
The dirty battered hat twitched, pulling Buffy's attention from the teachers. She narrowed her eyes as a tingle of warning ran along her spine. Her inner Slaydar didn't like that hat. It wasn't demonic, but the hat reeked of old wizards and very strong, intrusive magic. It probably also reeked of thousands of kid's heads which Buffy didn't want to think about since she had to wear it.
The point on the hat twitched again, and this time a tear near the brim opened up to form a mouth.
"Oh you may not think me pretty,
but there's no finer hat than me..." sang the hat.
Buffy snorted softly, and next to her Caradoc grinned. The hat sang merrily away until it finished the first verse with the words,
"...And there's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see..."
Crap, thought Buffy. That wasn't what she wanted to hear. That old, mangey hat was going to rifle through all her memories.
"...You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave of heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry,
Does set Gryffindors apart..."
Buffy looked up to Dumbledore. Underneath the brim of his wizard's hat his eyes gleamed. 'And that's a big no from Buffy,' she thought mutinously. 'Not with Dumbledore hovering.'
"...Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind..."
Was she witty and clever? She wasn't sure. Buffy wondered if the hat would make an exception and go for plain snark-girl instead.
"..Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those pure-blood folks use cunning means
To achieve their ambitious ends."
Slytherin was Tom Riddle and Marcus Lestrange's house.Buffy wondered if they were watching the Sorting and wondering where she'd be placed.
"...Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never yet been wrong,
I'll take a look inside your mind
And tell where you belong!"
The students and staff applauded the hat, and then the applause died away as Professor McGonagall took a scroll from the high table and read out the first name.
"Anders, Mona"
Buffy watched the wide-eyed, trembling pupil take a seat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall gently placed the hat onto the girl's head. It dropped all the way down onto the bridge of her nose, covering the girl's eyes.
"Gryffindor!" yelled the hat immediately.
From the table on the far side of the hall, a cheer went up. Mona Anders grinned in relief and ran to the table on Buffy's right. Buffy noticed the girl's tie had changed from plain black to Gryffindor red and gold.
Next on the stool was a boy who the hat sorted into Slytherin. He swaggered across to the table cheering him on the opposite side of the hall to Gryffindor.
"Dearborn, Caradoc," called Professor McGonagall.
"Good luck," Buffy whispered.
Caradoc sat down on the stool, looking very large on there compared to the first years. This time the hat didn't slip so far down over his nose and it also seemed to take the hat a lot longer to decide.
"Gryffindor!" yelled the hat.
Over at the far side of the hall, the Gryffindor table let out a very loud cheer. It was obvious that Caradoc was going to be popular over there.
Other kids were called to the hat, and Buffy bored and, resigned to a long wait, filled the time by watching the ghosts float around the hall.
"Leatherbarrow, John," called Professor McGonagall.
Buffy's senses tingled as something materialised in the hall above her. She looked up, and saw a being that was not quite a ghost and not quite alive floating amongst the candles. It bore the likeness of a tiny man and wore a jester's cap. Whatever it was, it felt different to her Slaydar than the other ghosts, it almost like her boggart and her senses told her to be cautious.
"Lovegood-Summers, Buffy!" snapped Professor McGonagall. She pointed at Buffy. "Isn't that you?"
"Huh?"
There was a titter of laughter from around her and Buffy's cheeks flushed. Professor McGonagall must have already called her name but she'd been concentrating on the not-a-ghost and hadn't heard her. Buffy pouted. For some reason, they were calling her Lovegood-Summers instead of Summers and she hadn't expected to be called yet.
Feeling a little self-conscious, but lifting her chin defiantly, she took a seat on the stool and closed her eyes. The hat slid down over her head.
"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear.
"Are you the hat?" Buffy asked.
"Who else did you expect? A bee? You don't have to speak aloud, you know. I can hear all your thoughts."
Buffy waited, feeling the hat pushing its way deeper into her mind.
"I didn't anticipate that."
Buffy kept very still, hardly daring to breathe. Had it seen the memories of her illegal vampire killings? No! She mustn't think about slaying! Maybe she should just think about her Hogwarts textbooks so that it thought she was studious and put her in Ravenclaw.
"I AM VERY CLEVER," she intoned slowly and clearly so the hat got the mental message. She also flashed a mental image of Hogwarts, A History at it. "I need to go into-"
"Two sets of memories," mumbled the hat. "I've not seen that before."
"What? What do you mean I've two sets of memories?"
"Someone's been playing with dark magic," the hat continued.
"No, I haven't! I didn't even know how to turn the light on until last month!"
"And the result is we have a Slayer again," continued the hat, ignoring her comments. "Now, what House shall I put you in? So brave, willing to sacrifice yourself for others..."
"How did you know I'm a -." Buffy yelped. "No! NOT a Gryffindor."
"Not a Gryffindor?"
"I don't want to be a Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is the House for me. Put me in Ravenclaw."
"Makes friends easily, charms, and inspires great loyalty in others."
"Look, save yourself the bother. I'm not a Hufflepuff. Put me in Ravenclaw."
"Cunning, resourceful, and willing to use any means to achieve her goals."
"Hey, what about smart! I'm clever and willing to learn! I've read all the books! Advanced Arithmancy! Runework for the Expert! Divining the Future For those With...er, Superior Skills! Defence Against the Dark -."
"SLYTHERIN!" yelled the hat.
Buffy didn't move. "You'd better change your mind," she hissed. "Or I'm coming back for you."
But the hat remained silent and Professor McGonagall whipped it from her head. "Go on now, you're new housemates are all cheering for you."
…...