The Tale of Tom
Chapter Fourteen: The First Day of School
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"Dear Merlin Tom, you're already up?"
"What?" Tom spoke.
"It's six in the morning!" Myron exclaimed.
"So?" he said, turning over the corner of his book.
"We have two hours until we even have to be in the Great Hall," stated Myron, checking his watch before realizing he wasn't wearing it.
"I couldn't sleep," Tom replied, shrugging.
"Oh," the boy became silent.
"Figured, I'd review some information," he volunteered, holding up his book.
"Suppose that's a good idea, but I think I'll take sleep," Myron said, turning back to the dormitory stairs. "Night."
"Night." Tom replied as he heard the stairs being climbed. "Or rather, morning!"
"Aren't they supposed to have passed out the schedules by now?" Myron nervously asked his brother.
"Not always," Owen replied, buttering his toast. "Sometimes Professor Irving takes a while to pass out the schedules."
"He teaches...charms, right?"
Owen nodded and continued eating his breakfast.
"Is that him?" Tom asked, gesturing to a stocky man near the end of their table.
"Uhh," the older boy leaned backward slightly to get a better view, "Yes."
"So--" cutting himself off, Tom stared upward in awe, as did many of the first years.
Owen vaguely glanced. "I've forgotten how surprised the first years always are at the mail." Myron and Tom were still looking at the hundreds of circling owls, one of which had now landed on the older boy's shoulder. Tom diverted his attention to this one, having seen an owl close up only once, and eventually all of the other owls spiraled down to their owners. "Wonder what Mum's sent me now," Owen spoke to himself, pulling a piece of paper off the owl's leg.
"What makes you think it's for you?" Myron defiantly asked.
"Because she's probably reminding me to watch out for you or something," the older Nex replied, giving a slight laugh afterward. "Hey, what do you know, I'm right."
"Great," his younger brother spoke sarcastically. Tom was gently stroking the black-brown owl as it ate Myron's breakfast.
"Is this your owl, Owen?" The owl was now nibbling on Owen's breakfast.
"Delano? No, that's Mum and Dad's owl. They won't give either of us an owl; they think it's a waste to have more than one owl per family."
Tom nodded as the owl took flight.
"Owen, good to see you again," spoke Professor Irving, handing Owen a schedule. "Myron, good to see you too, say hello to your parents for me," he handed Myron another schedule. "And you are...?" the professor asked, surveying Tom.
"Tom Riddle."
"Riddle," the professor repeated, handing him a piece of paper and moving onward.
"How'd he know your name?" Tom asked Myron.
"Oh, he knows our family. Actually, I'm surprised he didn't know yours, too. He tends to know most of the proper pure-blood families."
"Ah, well," quickly thinking of a lie, Tom continued, "My mum doesn't have company over too often."
Myron nodded. "My mum goes completely nuts when someone comes over. Once, she almost gave our house-elf some laundry to put away, she was so out of it." Smiling, Tom didn't say anything. (He had no idea what a house-elf was or why it was bad that Myron's mother had almost given it laundry.) "Do you want to head toward our first period? Who knows how long it's going to take us to find it," his friend continued.
"Sure," Tom answered, pushing his finished breakfast away and standing up.
"We have," Myron consulted his paper, "Potions first. I think that's in the dungeons."
Owen nodded. "It is. Good luck," he added as the two first years set off.
"Do you know where the dungeons are?" Tom asked as they started walking.
"I think I have a general idea," Myron spoke.
The noise of the Great Hall faded away as they started walking through empty hallways, in the direction of where they hoped the dungeons would be. Both boys walked for quite a while before they heard the sound of a bell, far off. "How much time do we have left?" asked Tom, assuming Myron would know.
"Five, ten, fifteen minutes," the sandy-haired boy shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine." Tom was not particularly comforted. "But I think we're almost here," he added hopefully.
"It does seem like we're closer to the dungeons," Tom concurred.
They went down another flight of stone steps, this one with moss growing in the corners. "Uhh," Myron started, looking around a corner. "This way, I think." Tom mutely followed. "And we're h--" he cut himself off. Both boys stood in front of the door to the Slytherin common room. "Uh, heh, heh...heh. Oops?"
"I have an idea," Tom stated, hiding his slight annoyance, before walking off. Myron quickly followed, now silent.
Right, left, down, right, right, down, left, down--
"Wow, you really know where you're going!" spoke, Myron surprised.
"And, voila!" Tom said, gesturing to the door of their potions classroom, quite amazed at his good luck.
Myron whistled. "Nice job."
They took both took adjacent seats at the front of the classroom (as much as Myron had wanted to sit in the back) and pulled out their potion books. The faint sound of a bell floated through the open door and a woman walked in from another room, presumably her office. She wore dark blue robes and her brown eyes sparkled at the children in front of her.
"Welcome students!" she called out. Several of the students murmured a hello back in the brief pause. "I am Professor Waldron and, in addition to being the potions professor, I am also the Ravenclaw head of house. But this is just Gryffindors and Slytherins, right?" The class murmured in agreement. "Good. Now then," she tapped the blackboard with her wand and words written in a hasty cursive appeared. "Copy these notes while I take attendance." There was the sound of students diving into their bags for quills and ink. "After you take these notes we will start our first potion and, before you ask," the several students with their hands in the air put them down, "it will be a potion which cures boils, and it is relatively simple as long as you follow directions."
The professor silently continued pacing the room as quills scratched furiously against parchment. Tom made a mental note to practice writing with a quill; he kept smearing the notes, being used to a pencil. "Are you done yet?" she asked, attempting to hide her impatience at starting the potion. Some of the first years shook their head, while others triumphantly set down their quill. "Three more minutes," she spoke. The sound of moving quills decreased until the room was entirely silent. "Excellent!" Professor Waldron eagerly spoke, clapping her hands together. "Now, those were notes on the basics of all potions and potion making in general. We'll go further in depth, but for now, I want to see how you make a potion on your own. Without help. So," she tapped the chalkboard with her wand once again and the notes disappeared, being replaced by more neatly written words. "These are the instructions, get started and good luck."
Tom, and the rest of the class, quickly set to making the potion. The classroom was silent, except for the hissing of potions and the occasional whisper of a question to an adjacent friend, which was always reprimanded with a swift glare from Professor Waldron. "Remember," she had said loudly several times throughout the period, "This is a test of your potion skills, not your friend's."
The bell sounded, far off as always, and Professor Waldron quickly spoke, "Time's up! Bottle a small amount of your potion and give it to me. Don't worry, this isn't for a real grade, I just want to see how far along all of you are."
Tom quickly handed his bottled potion to the professor and gathered his things. "What do we have now?" he asked Myron, who had returned to his seat a mere moment after the black-haired boy.
"Charms," the other boy replied, quickly stuffing his things disorderly into his book bag.
"Don't suppose you know where that is?" Tom asked, not particularly faithful in Myron's navigating skills. At least, not anymore.
"As a matter of fact I do," Myron replied proudly, striding out of the potions classroom with Tom behind him. "And I really do," he added, as though he was able to sense Tom's doubt. "I've been there before. I think Irving was doing parent-teacher conferences or something, and they dragged me along."
"They don't still do those--do they?" asked Tom, attempting to keep the shock and fear out of his voice.
"Parent-teacher conferences? Nah, at least I don't think so. It was always unique to Irving, anyway. Wanted to really get to know the students, as opposed to other houses, where all they learn is the students' name," Myron spoke, and Tom felt his heart beat slow down slightly. "So how do you think you did on the potion?" the dark-eyed boy said, changing the topic rather abruptly.
"I think I did rather well," Tom replied, happy to be on a safe subject. "It reminded me of this assignment once given to me at my old school," he decided to elaborate, being able to, for once. Of course, Tom failed to mention that the teacher had given it to him in the hopes he would fail it. He had been collectively chosen by the rest of the class, who had strongly disliked the orphaned boy. "It was a list of directions we were supposed to follow. The first one was that you were to read all of the directions before doing anything. So, the assignment assumed you'd ignore that one, and get to the following directions. The last direction, of course, told you to not do anything."
Myron laughed. "Brilliant! Did you fall for it?"
Tom smiled, "I'm glad to say that although I almost did, in the end I didn't."
"So you went to a preparatory school, I take it?" Myron asked.
Tom felt his blood turn to ice. Did wizard children go to elementary school? He hadn't even thought of the fact that they might not. Luckily, Tom was saved from having to say anything as Myron continued talking.
"Father thought about sending Owen and I to a preparatory school, but Mum didn't want us to have to leave home any sooner than necessary," he said the last part with a slight laugh. "But of course it does help if you have some prior education, so Mum got us a tutor."
Tom nodded, thankful he hadn't revealed anything unintentionally. "Is this the charms classroom?" he asked when Myron hesitated in front of a classroom door.
The other boy glanced inside quickly before replying that, yes, it was. They quickly entered, and none too soon, for the far off bell rang as soon as they had taken their seats.
Professor Irving was a balding wizard of average height, with a stocky build. His small glasses were perched precariously on the end of his nose. He quickly introduced himself to the other house that shared their period, which, as Tom was ecstatic to find out, was Ravenclaw.
Charms itself consisted mostly of taking tedious notes, which Professor Irving explained. However, Tom privately thought that the notes were simple enough they hardly yielded an explanation. The bell rang after what seemed an eternity, with the elderly professor promising they'd actually perform some spells the following day.
"What now?" Tom asked, reaching into his bag to make sure his wand was still there, as though afraid it might disappear from lack of use.
"I think we have lunch," Myron replied casually, before looking at his schedule and affirming this belief.
"Now we just need to find our way back to the Great Hall," Tom said with a sarcastic smile.
"What page numbers?"
"One to twenty-three."
"One to twenty three?!"
"Yes."
"Do you suppose if my book 'accidentally' catches fire I'll be let off?"
Tom laughed, "Probably not, but if you sit any closer to the fire it may be an accident."
"I'm cold," Myron feebly stated in his defense.
"That's fine." Tom was sitting in one of the chairs while Myron was lying on his stomach directly in front of the fire.
"I'm guessing you already did the reading," Myron spoke, changing the topic slightly.
"You'd be correct if you made that guess," Tom serenely replied.
"I can't believe today was supposed to be an easy day," the other boy replied, exasperated.
"I guess we'll get comparison tomorrow," spoke Tom, smiling slightly.
"Uggh," was Myron's only reply. For a few minutes neither of them said anything before Myron, desperate for a distraction from his school work, spoke again. "So what did you think of the different classes?"
"They were fine," was Tom's reply. "Transfiguration wasn't too bad, and at least we got to use our wands."
"You're just saying that because you were the only person who actually succeeded in transfiguring that match," Myron spoke, smiling.
"Maybe I am," replied Tom, also smiling. "And I must say, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher certainly seems to know his subject, even if we didn't do any spells today."
"Yes, he certainly seems to," Tom's sandy-haired friend replied. "Evidently, when he went to Hogwarts, he was a Slytherin."
"Oh, really?" said Tom, more focused on his book than on the conversation.
"That's what I heard."
"Mmm," was Tom's only reply, now that he was fully submerged in his book.
Myron noticed this and gave up on procrastinating, instead submitting himself to the full wrath of his school work.
A half-hour later, Tom bade him good-night and climbed the stairs to his dormitory, rather content with his first day of school and extremely excited that he was finally on his way to becoming a wizard.
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Disclaimer: I don't own Tom Riddle, or the Harry Potter world.
A/N: Here (finally) is Chapter 14. My apologies for such an incredibly long wait and for the fact it is not as long as the previous chapter, but I hope that can be forgiven. Hopefully, once winter break starts (about half way through December) I'll be able to update a bit more often. Until then, please hold out with the sporadic updates.
Another A/N: As my beta-reader is not-so-gently reminding me, she beta-read this chapter, so a big thanks to her. (My beta-reader is Kai, her account being called Kuramakicksass.) (She also wants me to ask you to read her new Harry Potter story, The All-American Rebel.) (She says thank you.)
