"First year this way!" Called the tall black haired girl Tom had sat by. He followed her closely, determined not to get lost in the crowds.
"That girl is definitely beautiful. She's from a long line of pureblood wizards from Egypt." Said a first year boy beside him. He had golden brown hair and eyes like warm honey. "Caleb Cabrera, first year." Said the boy, holding out his hand.
"Tom Riddle." Tom said, shaking the boy's hand.
"You're a pureblood of course, I am too. Slytherin doesn't take anything else though, so I guess that's obvious."
Tom gave a dry, forced laugh. "Yes, of course." He lied. He wasn't completely sure, but he had a feeling that having a muggle father did not constitute pureblood. His stomach wrenched. A subconscious decision was made, that he would keep his lineage a secret.
After they had entered the common room, Tom took a seat beside Caleb. He looked into the fire as other first years began to fill in around them.
"Do you play quidditch? I do. I have a Comet. It's brilliant." Caleb continued to prattle on endlessly about the silly sport. Tom had no interest in sports. He remembered the children in the orphanage used to play cricket. At first, he had wanted to join them. When he asked, however, they laughed, jeered at him. "You? You're odd, no one wants you here." He had been sad at first, but eventually it had helped him become strong. Muggles were horrible, cruel things. He was at Hogwarts now, and wizards and witches were good.
Tom was shaken out of his reverie by a low whistle. He looked up from the flames to see a tall, sandy haired fifth year approaching Isobelle. She was standing her ground, glaring ferociously at the boy. Tom watched the scene cautiously from the other side of the room, his fingers touching his wand thoughtfully.
"Nice body for an undeveloped firstie." The fifth year growled, reaching out to touch the blonde girl. Tom whipped out his wand, moving to blast the bastard into oblivion. He would not have that filthy thing touching his beauty. Before he could act, however, the boy was suddenly thrown face first into the stone dungeon floor. He stood quickly, staring, trying to figure out what had happened. He realized that she had done it- in a flash, using his body weight against him, thrown him to the floor by his arm.
"Wow! Did you see that! Bloody hell… A first year, a girl no less, taking on Malcolm Massner. He's a fifth year!" Caleb exclaimed.
Tom nodded vaguely, staring after Isobelle in fascination.
qpqpqp
It was Tom's second day of classes, and he was currently trying to dislodge his charms book from a trick stair. He looked at Caleb, who was standing behind him with a furrowed brow.
"Bugger. Just leave it. We shouldn't be late." Caleb said.
"…But my homework." Tom muttered.
"Bullocks to your homework. It's not coming out."
Tom sighed. "Look, you go on to class. Tell the professor where I am. I'm going to give this a few more tries."
Caleb shrugged and hurried down the stairs, bolting away. Tom took hold of the protruding book and tugged.
"Having trouble?" Came a taunting voice behind him. Tom turned around, hopeful for a hand. All optimism drained from him at seeing the figure. The boy was sneering haughtily. He moved forward purposefully and shoved Tom sideways against the railing, bent down and wrenched the book out with a mighty pull.
"Oh, thank y-
"Shut up. Who said I did it for you? It was in my way." The boy said.
"Please, I'm late for class." Tom pleaded, holding out his hand.
"Fine, but you have to catch me first." He said wickedly, running off with Tom's book. Tom groaned and chased after him. Try as he might, Tom couldn't keep up with the obviously older boy. By the time he caught up with him, he was panting and holding a stitch in his side. Tom noted that the boy was a Gryffindor by his tie. The boy was levitating the book just above Tom's head.
"Go on, jump for it."
Tom leapt hopelessly with his hand outstretched, the tips of his fingers barely ghosting over the spine. He would have had it, had it not move a good three inches up. Tom felt his rage returned and he growled. "Give me my book!" He protested.
The other boy smirked at him. "Make me."
Tom retrieved his wand from his robes. "Give it here." He snarled.
"Oh is the firstie is going to shoot sparks at me! I'm so sc-" He began sarcastically, but fell to his knees, shuddering. Tom's wand was vibrating, and the Gryffindor curled up, writhing. Satisfaction had barely been tasted when Tom shook himself. This was insane! He lifted his wand, removing the curse.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Tom had expected glaring hatred, turning or running, a hex cast his way, but he was caught off guard by a solid fist locking with his jaw, sending him reeling. Tom's mind spun as he tasted his own blood in his mouth and he collapsed to the ground, his head hitting the stone floor, and he fell into a blackness
A/N- I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out. I've had half of it for awhile, and was debating whether or not to post it, but it didn't seem done. The next chapter will be up very very soon, by Tuesday at the most. So, a few hints about my plot! Pay attention to the Egyptian girl. She'll be very important! I was also agitated that someone else is writing a Tom Riddle fic, and they have a lot more up than me. I read through theirs, and was relieved to find many, many key differences. Wooh. Though I like their starting better… o.O Oh well. Please review you guys! So I feel good about this and keep liking it. I'm also working on a few other stories, so when they're up, please read!