Chapter 14: The Summer from Hades



I stood at the platform, watching the Hogwarts Express steam out of sight, returning home. Around me I could hear the chaos of shuffling feet, my classmates dispersing for summer in all directions. I just stood still, hanging onto my cart. I didn't have anywhere to go. The professors had been too preoccupied with the Grindelwald catastrophe to do much more than inform me I should return to the orphanage. I was, frankly, relieved in a way. I had wanted to forget about Hogwarts for a while. My nightmares came every time I slept now, only they were no longer cushioned in symbolism. Each night, I watched helplessly as Dash died, his body falling onto me as guilt filled me and cold laughter rang in my ears. While I did nothing. Was unable to do anything.

Was worthless.

But I couldn't stay on platform nine and three-quarters forever. Sighing, I trudged through the barrier, zapping through to the Muggle world. Around me were hurrying people, each with somewhere to go. I didn't have the luxury of a clear purpose or direction. The orphanage seemed an impossible place to return to. Truth be told, I hadn't given this problem much thought. Most of my time had been spent in the restricted section of the library, looking for any way to bring Dash back. I had read ceaselessly, my back and neck in a constant cramp from leaning over tables with my nose in a book, my eyes struggling with weighted lids as I stumbled to classes in between.

 Despite all my efforts, I had found nothing.

After the realization that he truly was gone had sunk in, I had just wandered around Hogwarts in a fog, working nonstop at schoolwork to avoid thinking. Now I didn't even have that reprieve. I had to find something to do, somewhere to go, or I'd be living on the streets for the next few months. Somehow I shivered even in the May mugginess, physically shaking my head as if to cast the demons out, not caring about the odd looks I received. I forced my mind elsewhere. I had to find something to do, somewhere to go, or I'd be living on the streets for the next few months.

And I didn't even have Snicks with me. Well, he wasn't my pet; I couldn't exactly make him stay by my side. He had said something about visiting some relatives in Brazil... I didn't know how he planned on getting there. Perhaps he just wanted to get away as well. I couldn't rationally blame him for that, though a part of me still did. Either way, it was just me now, with a cartful of books and scrolls, in ragged clothing and shoes that were so tight by now they hurt with every step. Tom the outcast orphan again.

Sighing, I forced my self-pity aside. Stop being a baby, I chided myself irritably. I had to think now, and be practical. I was a survivor, and I could make it on my own. Think, Tom. What did I have?  I had schoolbooks... and someone had said that they used most of the same books every year. So, maybe I could turn them back into the store for some money. Then, I could board myself and not have to return to the orphanage. Once decided, the tightness in my chest lessened slightly. I squared my shoulders, heading for the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley.

The bartender, Took, an overweight man with a large grin, was there in his usual position of lolling behind the bar, wiping a dirty glass with a filthy rag. I recalled him from last year when I had entered the smoky establishment with Dumbledore. Alone this time, I hesitated by the door. It creaked shut behind me, loud enough to unfortunately incur notice. Took smiled distractedly at me as his son rocketed around the room bumping into everyone and thing. Took's being the only somewhat pleasant face in the establishment, I started to cross over to him to inquire about the price of rooms when his son collided with me. Knocked over, we sprawled across a table, crashing two glasses to the floor. Angry calls were heard as I straightened up slowly. The boy pushed himself up quickly and ran to his father, who was glaring crossly. I turned around when I heard Took shouting, "Tom!"

I cringed when hearing my name. "Yes?"

The man's eyes narrowed on my disheveled form. "What?"

"What?" I parroted.

"That's what I said. Back off boy, I'm trying to have a conversation." I shrugged, relieved, and began to move on when again I heard in a voice shaking with fury, "Tom!"

I spun around. "What!" My voice was annoyingly high and riddled with emotion.

The expression on his face was one of growing agitation. Slowly as if I were an annoying child playing a prank, he said, "I can't talk to you right now!"

"Then why do you keep calling me?!" I shouted back, not caring that by now everyone was staring. Some rather large, hairy, foul-looking men materialized behind him, appearing ready to toss me out at Took's word.

But Took now no longer seemed angry, just a mite confused. "I didn't call you."

What, is the world out to annoy me today? Clenching my jaw, I said, "You said my name. Normally I take that as a sign someone is trying to elicit a response from me." I chose my words carefully and primly to appear mature, until I couldn't resist and added, "But that's just the way my crazy mind works."

The bartender then began laughing. Calling off the henchmen, he then waved me closer. Placing a hand on the small boy who had run into me, he replied, "Oh, that's rather funny, my son's name is Tom, too. Cute, huh?" He eyed me with the familiar grin. Oddly, hearing the word 'cute' from such a burly man as him didn't seem out of place.

"Adorable," I droned in response. Took ruffled his son's hair while winking at me. "You know how it is with these little rascals. Always getting underfoot. Loads of fun, though, even if they make your hair gray. But then, I guess you're a bit too young to start thinking of that. Just wait till you're older though, you'll hope for ten of them!"

"Ugh, no!" I shuddered, before realizing that wasn't really the nicest thing to say. "I mean, erm, I don't think I'd be good with kids. I think I would...break them."

Took laughed at that. "Ya can't break them, sonny! Children are mighty tough ones, they are. Why, I bet every father thinks that at first, til they find out how resilient children are. I bet your dad tackled you when you were younger, too!" He spun his son around as if to emphasize his point, as the small boy let out a delighted squeal. I tried to smile, but sudden tightness filled my chest. I couldn't hide my discomfort very well, for Took stopped fussing with his child and said to me, "You okay there, son? Little Tom didn't hurt ya, now did he?"

I shook my head, softly saying, "No, he didn't."

Took shook his head, and said to Little Tom in a scolding voice, "Apologize to the other Tom." Little Tom did so, and Took raised his head with a smile on his face, as if I really had been desiring an apology. I gave a tight smile and nod back. A moment of silence occurred, and then Took replied, "Weren't you the boy that Albus took in here awhile back?" When I nodded yes, he smacked his grimy forehead. "Worst memory, I have. Well, the least Little Tom and I can do is get a free meal for you. No, I won't take no for an answer. Sit right there."

I should get rammed more often, I thought. I could use the free meals. I sat on the stool, though I wasn't really hungry nor could I stomach most foods. Eating was an annoyance I hated having to do. But I was aware that I needed strength and didn't know when my next meal might come. I forced myself to eat everything on the chipped plate, even though my stomach was really too small for it. He had given me some sort of bacon sandwich, with potatoes on the side and juice to drink. I felt ready to explode when it was over, but a little less edgy. In a more respectful voice I then asked Took, "Are there rooms here to rent?"

He looked a little surprised at my question. "Well, yes. Does your family need a place to stay?"

I groaned inwardly. Dealing with that inquiry would not be easy. "Erm, yes, sir, I think. My...father works most of the time, so he sent me ahead. I doubt you'll see him much. In fact, I have to go meet him now, in Diagon Alley--"

When I said that, Took grasped my arm and practically dragged me across the bar to a corner. In a fierce whisper he said, "Don't mention that place!"

I was confused. "Why?"

His grip tightened. "Because -- dammit, boy, don't you know there's a war going on here? Muggles are jumpier than a stung steed. Any mention of magic, or anything odd, will set them off on you."

I felt drained of whatever color I had. This was what the Muggles Studies professor had been telling us about. I hadn't forgotten about the money I'd stolen from the Blunts, and the last thing I needed was even more attention from the Muggle world. Or the magic world, either, come to think of it. Grindelwald and Hogwarts… I strangled those thoughts down. Shakily, I said, "I have to go--somewhere. I'll come back with the money if I -- if my father -- decides to stay here." I went to the back of the pub, thinking. I couldn't very well stay in the Muggle areas with my load of magic supplies. I had to either find something in Diagon Alley to pay for a room, or try and locate Hogsmeade. My head ached as I left. Little Tom was screaming and running around again, and if I didn't leave then I'd curse his feet to ram up his mouth.

I had watched Dumbledore do this, and once I had seen something it usually stuck in my memory forever. I reached out hesitantly with my wand, tapping the bricks, and to my relief they began to move aside to reveal Diagon Alley. Only it was practically empty.

I wandered in curiously, scuffing up dust on the worn street. In practically every store window was a Closed sign, with no light lit inside. The few bodies that were out were apparently in a great hurry not to be. They all kept their faces down with hoods pulled tightly over their faces to obscure their features, ignoring me as they pushed past. The few gazes I actually managed to catch were frozen in either fright, shock, or dismay. I wandered down slowly, wondering at the oddness that surrounded me in an almost palpable energy.

A paper scattered across the ground, tangling itself around my leg. I reached down and picked it up, curious. The front page's headline read, "Dark Times Ahead." I walked over to the side of the road and sat down on the curb to read the article. The large picture bore the heads of the Ministry, all shaking in fear in front of the partially destroyed Ministry building. My eyes widened at the sight. Smoke rose from the destruction as employees wandered about in the background, dazed as if their own foundations had crumbled along with the government structure. Covered beneath that picture was a smaller one of a grave, where a small gathering of recognizable people stood. The caption for that was "Drackus Salazar Malfoy, head Minister of the Department of Education, still suffers the loss of his eldest son, Dashell Drackus Malfoy. After this tragic event, so close to the loss of his wife in prison, the elder Mr. Malfoy has obviously been cleared of any implications of being connected with the current Dark Lord Grindelwald. Due to his closeness in the matter, and the former Head of Defense's tragic end in the raid on the Ministry's headquarters, it is with a heavy heart that Mr. Malfoy accepts the new position of Head of Defense and subsequent raise. It is with great hope that Mr. Malfoy will return some order to the Ministry, as even petty crimes are going unnoticed during these difficult times, mounting to undeniable paranoia and skepticism from the public over the government's efficiency." -Reported by Redmond Skeeter.

So Malfoy got a raise. I tried to conjure up rage, but I found that I couldn't. A part of me knew that it would be useless. Emotions without actions were futile, and there was nothing I could do against Malfoy at the moment. So I bit back any despair that threatened to rise and stood back up, swaying only a bit. The paper crumpled in my hand, and I couldn't deny a measure of disgust at the Ministry for being too thick to see what really had happened. And at Dumbledore, who knew bloody well what had occurred, but was too chicken to do anything about it. Even at twelve I found that repugnant and weak. Dumbledore's words tried to materialize in my mind, his calm voice imploring me to trust him. Immediately after them came Dash's face, cold and dead. Dumbledore and the Malfoys. Again my fists tightened. Well, let them rot. This wasn't my fight, not anymore. After all, I wasn't really a part of either world, Muggle or Magic. I had already refused Grindelwald. After that, there really wasn't anything else I could do. I was the descendant of a pathetic Muggle and illusive mother, who for all I knew was the first witch in her family. Not the strongest bloodlines.

Dumbledore could fight his own battles. The only thing I wished for him now was a lifetime of seeing the smug look of Malfoy's face over Dash's body each night, as I did. And Malfoy, well, he was obviously nothing more than a chew toy for Grindelwald. If he was willing to let Dash be murdered, he was nothing but a lame servant. He already didn't have much of an existence. And as for Grindelwald--nobody was ready to face him yet. I had felt his power and hatred when he'd touched me. It ran deeper than anything Dumbledore or anyone could have mustered, I was sure. He was also playing by rules that none of them seemed equipped to deal with. It had never even occurred to me how vicious he was, before that Parents' Day. I didn't know where my arrogant feeling came from, but I was sure that I knew him better than the Ministry. I honestly didn't believe that any was up to facing Grindelwald. Not that I was, being a poor Mudblood. But I stood behind my words. I had said that no one used me like he did, and I would die rather than back down.

I just didn't know what to do about it yet.

I started wandering along the streets again and soon came upon a jagged, matted sign that read Knockturn Alley in what looked like blood. A crow sat atop of the sign, glaring down at me over its chipped beak. I gazed down the street in wonder. Numerous shops cluttered its sidelines like at Diagon Alley, but these stores looked less than welcoming. All of them were coated in drab colors, with tilted roofs and doors broken with twisted signs hanging from the knobs decorated in the same dark red as the entrance plaque had been. A foul stench rose up from the streets, and the lampposts burned with green flames. I walked down the road, almost tripping over the cracked stones. All of these shops appeared to be open, though little traffic flowed through them. I couldn't help but peer in the windows as I passed. Bloodbats and small dragons hung dried in one store. I nearly gagged looking at their bloodless bodies, but puzzlement soon overrode my disgust. It was illegal to hunt dragons anymore, but there they were in plain view.

Curious, I strode further. I saw a shop that carried internal organs floating in jars, with eyes that still moved and mouths that, when the lid was off, screamed deafeningly for help. There was a pink powder in a jar that read, "Eternal Love: one drop and the person will either agree to love you forever or die. Now in peppermint flavor!" Well, it didn't take a genius to realize that that wasn't legal, either. There had been some passages in the History of Magic volumes in the library on streets like this. They were dedicated to Dark Magic, charmed in the past into being protected from Ministry officials' investigations. It was somewhat exciting to witness in person such wonders. I was still staring at a pair of pink eyes in a jar through a smudged window when a croaking behind me made me jump and turn.

I saw a woman...I thought. The bent form had some female attributes but also some features of what looked like an amphibian. Her skin was scaly and possessed a greenish tint, and her pinkish tongue whipped out several inches too far when her mouth opened. She stared unblinkingly at me with eyes that had no lids, and her thin lips pressed back as she hissed out, "Not a good place for children, dearie."

I gaped back at her, gathering my bearings before saying, "Doesn't look too good for anyone." She laughed at that, a croaking hack, and a few flies flew out of her nose. I was disgusted, but tried to maintain a civil expression. I didn't want her to curse me like she obviously had been.

She caught me staring and said slyly, "Appearances are deceiving, child."

Right. There was no way I was going to kiss her in the hopes of her turning into a beautiful princess. She might go the other way and become completely a frog... or something like that.

She tossed out easily, "Looks mean nothing, when you can breathe under water." Holding out her hand, I saw a few gorgeous jewels and a small silver charm nestled in her palm. Continuing, she added, "It's just what a treasure hunter needs, dearie."

I couldn't believe it. "So you did this to yourself?"

At that, sadness briefly broke through her facade. "It was only supposed to occur when I was in water. But you know, transformations can be difficult. Still, it isn't so bad. I've become very rich in the process!" With a final cackle, she pushed past me, saying, "Now, run along, I have to sell some goods!"

I stared after her, and then remembered about my dilemma. I had to sell my books, or I'd never afford shelter, food, or new school supplies. But even if I did sell my things, there was no way I could afford everything that I would need. And most of the shops in Diagon Alley were closed from the disarray in the community. Then my eyes widened. I am a genius I told myself, rushing back to the woman. When I reached her side, panting, she looked at me with slight annoyance. I pushed on anyway. "Ma'am, I think I can help you." Her eyes narrowed, and I said quickly, "I mean, not that you need any. Certainly not at treasure hunting. That sounds fascinating, and you must be good. But, it's just, I'm very good at charms. Maybe I could do something."

A strange look passed over her scaly face. It was one of longing, but deep skepticism. No matter, I had her. Desperation enabled me to believe this. I just had to continue selling my cause. Being down worked wonders on a salesman. And I had learned the finest sales techniques at the orphanage. The Blunts may have been a subspecies of humanity in certain areas, but anyone that could pass off a ten-year-old asthmatic with constant allergies to a young outdoorsy couple looking for a six year old had a gift.

The amphibiotic woman looked out of place in the dark shop, much as she had on the street. Quietly she said, "This is nothing that a young one like you should try to get in to. Run along, now. Back to your parents."

I dropped my head, deliberating, before saying, "I don't have any family. I'm an orphan." Slowly raising my eyes, keeping my chin down in a wounded expression, I replied just as softly, "And helping is something that everyone should do. A dear professor of mine always says that."

It was too easy. I felt a horrible guilt at using my mum like that, but I really did need money. Rationalizing it through, I stood still and tried to look tall as the woman contemplated me deeply. I offered, "I really do know what I am doing. Test me. Charms are one of my best subjects. Just show me the spell that you used, and I'm sure I can figure something out."

In a troubled voice she said, "I just don't know. A child?"

In a stiff voice I replied, "I'm not just a child, Madame." I could feel my expression darkening, but knew I had won her trust with my solemn words. It had been simple enough. No one could have wanted to go around looking like that. Desperation. It had been a perfect opportunity for me. As a Slytherin, it was almost a bylaw that I had taken advantage of it.

The woman pulled me into a corner and began furiously scribbling something on a parchment. Once finished, she folded it and slapped it into my hand with a hurried, "there." We stood looking at each other for a moment when she shrugged in seeming annoyance and asked, "What?"

"Did you think I was going to do it for free?" I cursed myself with that outburst, and then hurriedly tried to smooth it over. "I mean, I want to help and all, but I don't have any money or food or shelter. I was hoping that---"

"Oh, all right," The woman said crossly. She wasn't regarding me as an angel anymore, but at least she hadn't taken off. She thrust some coins into my hand, barely enough for room and board for a week, then grabbed my sleeve. In a much blacker tone she hissed, "You just better not double-cross me, dearie. I'm not in the business of hurting children, but--" She let her words trail off, shaking me for emphasis. I nodded demurely, and then asked, "How will I contact you when I'm done?"

She released me, stiffly saying, "I am here every Thursday at this time. I expect to hear from you soon. If it works, I'll have better payment for you." With a final warning glance, she swept out of the room. I stood there for a minute, my fingers clinking the coins together in my hand, and then I slowly began to smile.

It took me three weeks of constant work. I had rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron. Took was too busy with an overflow of customers to inquire about my constantly absent 'Father,' which was a nice relief. I locked myself up in my room, not wanting to risk the chance of someone seeing an underage wizard working on magic outside of school. The hag's money hadn't lasted long, so I offered to baby-sit for Little Tom for my room and board. I told Took that it was my Father's idea, to teach me how to be responsible. Took was too busy not to be grateful for my offer and agree. So I put sleeping charms on Little Tom during the day and worked on an anti-charm for the frog lady, as I dubbed her. It was a fitting punishment for his wild antics, I decided. Took was clearly impressed that I had managed to keep Little Tom so quiet all those hours, and had said so. I shrugged modestly, replying humbly that taking care of children wasn't as bad as I had thought. Just remembering to erase Little Tom's memory each night was my biggest responsibility. Little Tom was always confused why he couldn't remember his time with me, and I told him it was part of childhood development. Once I assured him he'd grow out of it, he'd scamper along in blissful stupidity.

I had recognized the problem fairly quickly. She had added too many frog gut slivers for a person of her size. I couldn't find any remedy in my schoolbooks, which made sense. Self-transfiguration was dangerous, and most often related to the dark arts. I had to return to Knockturn Alley several times and spend the afternoon reading the books there. Finally, I came across an account of a man who had done a similar accident to himself. I altered his anti-charm, for he had transfigured himself into having penguin's feet, not frog tendencies. But the basic concepts were easy enough. After many nights of endless work, I returned to the shop and met with her. She was as green and long tongued as ever, but her eyes held hunger and hope. I was beginning to feel a slight bit of nerves. This was another life I was playing with. But I had no choice, and anyway, she had accepted my offer. I left responsibility aside. So we went to a deserted street corner. I had her stand still with her eyes closed, so in case I burned her hair off she wouldn't notice right away. My heart thumping, I raised my wand and said with a slight tremor, "Elimitarmis Qualamphibius!"

Immediately silver sparks erupted from my wand and enveloped her. She gasped as she was lifted off the ground. She screamed in pain as the scales fell off of her body, leaving the skin beneath it to ooze and smoke. Her tongue was falling off. I panted and stepped back, terrified over what I had done. I stood transfixed while this occurred. After a few minutes of spellbinding tossing, her body morphing amid her shrieks, she was unceremoniously dumped on the ground, unmoving, hidden beneath her long purple cloak.

I killed her, I thought numbly, sliding down the wall. I killed her. My stomach dropped, and then proceeded to lift back up when I heard her cough. I hurried over to her side, helping her upright. Her skin was still red and burned, but it was human. Her mouth was swollen, and she looked at me in horror. I tried to smile encouragingly at her, with a confidence I certainly didn't feel inside me. I conjured up a mirror and help it out for her to see. She looked at herself and immediately broke out in sobs.

Uncomfortable, I stood there as she cried, "It's been s – s- so long, it's been so long!" over and over again. My frozen heart actually warmed a little. I even felt a smile curl on my face. Yes, this had benefited me more, but it was nice to have helped for once. I never was in this position before.

She looked back up at me with swollen eyes red with relief and whispered, "Thank you. You don't know how much---if there's anything I can do for you--" She was rambling on, but my mind now focused on the next problem I faced. She was certainly willing to give me whatever I wanted. I could be rich. But there's no way I could explain that to Dumbledore or Dippet. For all they knew, I wasn't supposed to be doing magic at all, for any reason, and using dark magic on another person without training was definitely enough to get me expelled. I couldn't tell them the truth--they wouldn't understand how desperate I had been. They would only think I was trying to show off. And no reason I could come up with would rectify it. I sighed, knowing what I had to do in this situation.

"If you could just buy me some new clothes that would be plenty. And a few school supplies." Room and board I had covered with Took. That was legal, except for what I had done to Little Tom. I could trade my books for new ones, and keep my work-study job for tuition. The lady, I could really call her that now, wanted to offer me much more, but I declined. And looking at her, I only felt a little disappointed that I hadn't gotten more out of my good deed.

The rest of my summer flew by, a busy, blessed blur. I now had some more clothing. The woman, whose name turned out to be Mara Fluris, had wanted to purchase for me only the most expensive clothing, but I couldn't risk it. Dumbledore would certainly recognize if I suddenly started dressing up to my house's standards. I let her buy me warm pajamas, and new shoes thank god, and some used sweaters and pants that weren't in fashion. No one would really see my pajamas or shoes. I might have been acting paranoid, but I had to play it safe. The closer the school term was to starting, the more skittish I became over my act. I also became more and more curious about these arts that could transfigure humans and held so much power. It was easy to see why they were outlawed--they were dangerous to people like Mara who couldn't wield them, so they were labeled dark and evil. But I had controlled them, been able to work them at only twelve. Sure, it hadn't been that difficult a charm, but I was only starting. My hunger for more also made me a bit uneasy. I couldn't be this lax at school, with everyone breathing down my neck. But at the same time I had a childish impulse to jump up and down in front of Dumbledore, Damien and Dippet and shout, "Look at me! Look what I can do that you can't!" Sure, the thought made my twelve year old self smile, but I certainly had to curtail that impulse.

Finally, the day arrived that I was to start for the Hogwarts Express and my second year of school. Someone pounded on my door early, even though I was already awake. I smiled, and said, "Come in, Tigger." At my answer, Little Tom bounded into the room and pounced upon my bed, holding the Milne book we'd been reading at times within his small, pudgy hands. He pouted when he saw my small bags packed. Since I had stopped putting him to sleep and started playing with him, we had become closer. Certainly, he was annoying and often sticky, and not nearly as interesting a companion as Snicks, but it wasn't that bad a job. He had really liked it when I had taught him how to pick locks. I decided I was by far a more impressive fatherly figure and instructor than Dumbledore had tried to be to me. Had however slightly tried to be to me, I corrected myself. And Dash. The image of his cold body confusingly mixed with Dumbledore's assured words to me, making my head ache.

I turned around with a modicum of patience and said, "Stop moping. You're going to start school tomorrow, as well. You'll be back with your friends, running around and breaking things, not cooped up in a bar."

Little Tom still pouted, whining, "They don't know neat stuff like you."

"That's true," I replied. "But now you do. And you can show your friends what I taught you, and then they'll be really impressed." Little Tom looked visibly cheered up at this idea, so I smiled slightly and added, "Just don't open any teachers' drawers when they're around. And don't tell your dad it was me that taught you, or I'll send the boogieman after you. All right?"

Little Tom nodded, his eyes widening in fear and wonder. "You know the boogieman?"

I nodded solemnly. "Yes. His real name is Albus. All the magicians know him. If you hear his name, kick him and run away fast, ok?" Little Tom gave me his solemn vow of promise, and then helped me lug my stuff downstairs. I said farewell to Took, who shook my hand in thanks. Smiling broadly, he gave me a wrapped sandwich to take with me on the train. I left, smiling as I thought about Took and his son. Not the brightest folk, but decent and gullible. I'd give my left arm to be there the next time Dumbledore came in.

The Hogwarts Express was right on time. I boarded the train, sitting in a compartment near the front since I was one of the first people on. Simon, Randy, Samantha and another girl sat with me. The girl was small and plump, with long brown hair and cunning brown eyes. It was easy to tell that she was Samantha's sister. Samantha introduced me, saying, "Tom, this is my sister, Marina. She's a first year." I nodded at the girl, who said in a confident voice as she tossed her hair back, "Call me Mary." I was impressed that she was so calm, when around her all the other first years were all trembling. She was exactly like Samantha in personality as well, from what I could tell. Definitely a Slytherin.

Everyone was busy talking about their summers. Simon had stayed at home most of the time, being privately tutored to get ahead. I saw the competitive glare in his eyes as he looked at me while saying this. Randy had traveled the whole time to about twelve different countries. Samantha and Mary recounted their holidays in Italy, where their father was from. Everyone was speaking easily, not mentioning the war at all. I found this interesting, because everyone else I had run into outside of the Slytherins had talked about the war in feared tones. Either the Slytherins were braver, or stupider, than everyone else, or they didn't have a reason to be afraid. I didn't voice this out loud. I just shrugged when asked about my summer, saying I had worked most of it. Randy snorted, asking, "What kind of work can a second year do?"

"You'd be surprised," I said neutrally. I started reading then. Simon quickly grabbed one of his books as well. Randy and Samantha laughed at us and challenged each other to a game of Exploding Snap. Mary slunk off in search of more interesting life forms, she said. Talk of the summer had ended. Eventually the lunch cart was pushed around. Everyone else purchased candies off of it, but I declined, saying I wasn't hungry. Randy tried to share with me, but I insisted he take all of it. I was embarrassed, but the sandwich Took had given me really was more than enough. I even gave the rest of it to Randy, who ate it without complain. He even said, "This is really good! You must have a great house elf," before Samantha jabbed him in the ribs for his idiocy. He looked confused for a moment, then his eyes widened and he said, "Sorry, Riddle. I forgot that you were--erm--between house elves at the moment."

I shrugged it off. I was too nervous of approaching the castle to pay much attention to my embarrassment or his teasing. In my gut twisting nervously was the thought that somehow someone knew what I had done over the summer, and that a group of officials would be present to greet me when I stepped off of the train. A creative imagination wasn't always that useful.

But no one was there when I stepped off of the train a few hours later except Wynn. He guided the first years to the boats, while the rest of us got to go into the carriages. It was raining again; I wondered if it always rained on the first day, as sort of a horrid initiation for the first years. Either way, it was nice not to have to go through it again. Soon I was sitting in the Great Hall, which was as beautiful as I had remembered it. The magicked ceiling was a stormy gray, a nice contrast to the warm golden given off by the candles. The teachers were all sitting on the dais, except Dumbledore, who would be with the first years. My stomach twisted at the thought. Dippet and Thistle caught my eye, and smiled. I smiled and waved weakly back, before noticing and old man sitting next to Thistle. He looked like the picture of dullness. His clothes were drab, his expression blank, and he his conversation obviously unstimulating if Thistle's yawns were anything to go by.

Soon, the doors flew open and in walked Dumbledore with the first years trailing him. He looked exactly as I remembered, and I swallowed back my nerves as his keen stare caught mine. I didn't back away from it, but held on till he had passed. I let out my breath, not knowing I had been holding it, and tried to focus on the sorting.

Once again, Slytherin got the fewest people. Gryffindor only got one more than us, but they cheered as if it had been by a thousand. Well, most of them probably couldn't count anyway. Hufflepuff got the most new students, a surprise to all. I counted the new heads in our house out of boredom. Seven girls, four boys. Mary was one of them, to no surprise. The hat had taken a while with her, though, which was unusual for a Slytherin. Well, except me. But I wasn't a normal Slytherin, was I?

Of the boys, I noticed one that wore robes only a little less shabby than mine. He was a sullen looking child, with black hair and eyes, small and silent. His eyes looked cold and cunning, and he already bore a sneer to the first-year boys surrounding him. I looked hard at him, trying to remember his name. Something Snape. He must have felt me looking at him, for he turned his sneer to me. I nodded to him, giving him the slight smile of greeting that I had received the year before. He eyed me carefully, assessing my appearance. Then he raised an eyebrow, gave me a slight nod, and turned away. It was clear that he was a Slytherin, as well. He didn't need the hugging and reassurance of fitting in that the other tables were surrounding their first-years with. Thank Merlin for that. I remembered what Grover had said to Dash that first night. Upper-crust stones, he had called us. A slight pang in my heart resulted as I thought, better that than an emotional Gryffin-ape. A true Slytherin didn't need any emotional support, could defend for themselves. I tightened my chest, trying to stop the expanding of my heart. I would be a true Slytherin if it killed me.

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'"  [W. A. L. 1]Grindelwald was really more like an event (catastrophe) than a monstrosity (beast.)