Another flashback chapter and then back to the funny mess that is my story
Teaching History (is Old News)
10 - School Days: Mirrored Selves
Platform nine and three-quarters feels just as crowded as King's cross. The most striking difference between the two train stations is the great red train sitting a few meters in front of him. Families bustle back and forth in tearful (and pathetic) displays of emotion. Wizards and witches seem to prefer bright coloured robes. Owls also seem quite popular, a logical trend when one considers the usefulness of owls.
Tom pushes his trolley past them all.
:
He takes the compartment furthest in the back of the train to avoid the riff-raff. He isn't here to socialize but to study wizarding culture until he understands how to use it for his own. Tom's practically a foreigner, knowing nothing about the intricacies of this society's politics. He'll wait and observe the power structure first before he can take advantage of it. How powerful are his classmates? Will Tom be average among them? No, impossible, he—
"O-oh! T—I mean, Riddle! It's good to see you," Potter pokes his head through the door. Like the last time they met, Potter's clothes dwarf him and look as plain as dirt on the street.
"Are you wearing that to the Sorting?"
Potter ducks his head down, fiddling with his frayed sleeves. "Well. No. I was hoping to change into my robes on the train. Um. Is it okay if I sit with you? Everywhere else is full and well, you can say no if you want, I just thought—"
"Fine." It will be an opportunity to study the person who holds his brother wand. Tom takes Potter's trunk.
"Really?" Potter brightens. "Awesome! I mean, great!"
Tom frowns. How can anyone smile so wide like that?
"Just don't make unnecessary noise. We don't need to attract that noisy Malfoy back."
Potter snorts. and for a moment, Tom pictures the other orphans at Saint Wools and how they used to laugh at him until he made them stop. But Potter looks at Tom with such warmth that Tom almost forgets what it felt like.
"We can always chase him out again."
Before Tom really realizes it, he smirks back.
:
True to his word, Potter stays quiet after he sees Tom pull out his copy of Hogwarts a History to read. Potter even digs out his own potions textbook and begins to read from the middle of the text. Unlike the orphans back at Saint Wools, Potter keeps this withdrawn behavior up for at least an hour before Tom decides to start gathering information.
"What do you think of our curriculum so far?"
Potter lights up. "Charms looks amazing! So does transfiguration, but we just transform—wait, I mean transfigure—small things first, I guess. That makes sense, since we're just starting out, but imagine being able to conjure up clothes out of forks or food out of toothpicks!"
"Transfiguration does look useful, but I agree. It appears the curriculum will start off too simple. What about potions?"
Potter's book nearly falls from his hands. "I'm… not sure yet."
Interesting. "Why not?"
"Well," Potter looks down at his shoes, "I have a bad feeling about it. Like, no matter how much I try to read ahead," Potter's fingers tighten on the page, "I won't be able to do well in that class."
Tom can't tell if this is a humble mask Potter wants to construct or a genuine fear. He presses for further information. "Surely you have your family to owl for advice?"
Potter grimaces, wrapping the book close to his chest. "My parents died when I was four and my aunt and uncle don't really like magic. They're, well, muggle, you know."
"Oh," Tom tries to sound sympathetic, unused to the tone. He's never tried to be nice before. At the orphanage, the other children avoid and fear him. With Dumbledore, Tom only has to feign good manners. But Potter could be more.
Both liars. Both orphans. Both alone. They even look somewhat similar, if Potter didn't have green eyes or wear glasses they could be twins almost. His mirror image.
Something in him hungers at the thought.
"You're like me," he says, thinking of someone who might understand the truth of the world.
Potter stares back in wonder.
:
The door to their compartment slides open before Potter can reply and in darts another boy, sweating nervously, practically sobbing his eyes out.
"H-h-have y-you s-s-seen a t-t-toad?!" the boy flails his arms about, "P-p-please! H-h-his n-name is T-trevor and h-he's this s-small and h-h-he was a gift f-from my u-uncle, oh p-please h-help!"
"There's no toad here," Tom says, hoping the nuisance will leave soon so he can go back to the previous conversation.
Unfortunately, the boy starts to bawl, turning into a larger teary mess. "T-this i-is the l-l-last c-compartment! I-if he's n-not h-here then, t-then…!"
Urgh. Tom wonders if he should push the boy out or use his magic but he still needs to tread carefully about who he keeps company with. He's still not sure what mask to play at the school. The fearful tyrant act works well at the orphanage so he can be alone but in an entirely new environment, Tom will have to adjust…
Potter suddenly stands up. "Please don't cry! I'm sure you just missed him by the front of the train. I can help you look again, if you want?"
The boy and Tom pause. In an instant, the boy starts bawling again.
Potter looks at Tom in bewilderment. This is your problem, Tom glares back.
"Uh… please stop…! Oh, I knew I shouldn't have said anything… Hey, um, it's going to be okay?"
"Y-you," sob, "a-are so nice! I just, n-no o-one e-else wanted to help and, and—"
"Sorry," Potter looks at Tom. "This will only take a few moments. His toad should be nearby… Do you want to come help us look?"
Why, Tom wants to demand but… he can see Potter's point. He and Potter are still at a disadvantage. They don't know who they need to win over to gain influence in their school yet. This trainwreck of a boy might be someone important and Tom could always have the boy repay him with a favour…
"Fine."
This time, when the boy sobs again, Tom glares him into silence.
:
"So, uh, I'm Harry. This is Riddle. what's your name?"
"Neville." The boy blows his nose, "Neville Longbottom."
An unfortunate surname for an unfortunate being. The surnames 'Potter' and 'Riddle' seem extravagant in comparison.
:
They search through the rest of the train, narrowly avoiding a confrontation with Malfoy and his tagalongs. Tom gains a few more tidbits about his acquaintance, and more importantly, about the owner of his brother wand.
First, the wizarding world appears to have a systemic government and culture based on blood status. Strange notion but Tom doesn't pretend to understand why humans care about such things. Second, purebloods seem to benefit from the most wealth. Third, Potter seems quite close-lipped about his family.
How curious.
:
"He's gone! Forever! Gran's gonna kill me! I'll be cast into the street!" Longbottom moans when they arrive at their stop.
At this point, all Potter can do is tentatively pat Longbottom's shoulder. "Maybe we can look just one more time—"
"And miss the sorting?" Tom yanks Potter away. "The toad's gone for good. Just buy a new one." Longbottom definitely has the money for it.
"Oh merlin, the sorting," Longbottom covers his face. "I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff. Just dump me out the window and leave me to rot."
"Hey, don't say that! You'll find your toad, I know it! Let's get some fresh air," Potter tugs Longbottom out, ignoring Tom's clenched grip. "Why don't you tell us about this Hufflepuff thing. What exactly is it? Do we have to study it too?"
"What?" Longbottom blinks. "No, it's a house!"
"The house representing the hardworking and loyal, to be exact," Tom adds, remembering the passage dedicated to houses in his extra reading. "Hogwarts students are sorted into four different dormitories, or 'houses' based on character traits. Hufflepuff for loyalty, Gryffindor for bravery, Ravenclaw for intelligence, and Slytherin for ambition."
"But… doesn't everyone have those traits…? People change so much too…" Potter frowns at the wall, "what if they're not ambitious all the time? Not brave?"
"The magic they use to sort students is likely very sophisticated. Perhaps a branch of Divination is involved. I have to do more research on the subject." Tom could only buy three extra books with his funding after all.
Longbottom only droops lower. "I'm doomed."
"Hufflepuff doesn't seem bad. Loyalty is a pretty good trait to have…"
"Easier for people to use you," Tom points out.
Potter frowns. "Still… having a place to belong…"
"I would rather make that place."
Potter pauses, his gaze suddenly very direct with Tom's. Someday, Tom wants to write notes on how to read the emotions in Potter's eyes. Other human beings are easy. Predictable. Potter feels like a language Tom knew once in a dream, but woke up forgetting.
"You'd probably do well in any house, Riddle. I hope… well—"
"Toad! Anyone lose a toad?" an older student with an alarmingly bright smile calls out.
"Trevor!" Longbottom looks ready to kiss the older student. "Thank you so much!"
"No problem! Just keep a closer eye on him next time. He was sitting in the conductor's seat near the front… Anyways, are you First Years? I can lead you to the lake, that's where all the First Years go after the train ride. It's tradition."
The student, Cedric Diggory, leads them to the lake as planned and sends them off with a smile. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff," he calls out, ruffling Potter's hair.
"Not likely," Tom murmurs. Brave, intelligent, and ambitious certainly apply to Tom but loyalty and that sickening sweetness that Diggory exudes do not.
:
Tom scowls for the rest of the boat ride across the lake, hating the cold, hating the wet. Billy Stubbs's snide jeers echo in his ears and Tom pushes them away. Beside him, Potter looks absolutely miserable, shivering and curling in on himself, looking smaller than ever.
"We're almost there," Tom finds himself saying.
Potter nods weakly but otherwise doesn't respond. Longbottom glances at them both in confusion while their fourth passenger, a girl named Myrtle, won't stop babbling about meeting all the ghosts at the school. If she says another word, Tom might push her off the boat.
Without warning, Potter's shoulder brushes against Tom's and he hears, "Look."
Hogwarts looms in the distance, lit up against the night sky. Tom can practically feel the air thrumming in excitement, the closer they sail towards the castle. It looks like an illustration from one of Amy's fairy tales but dressed in power and energy Tom would never have imagined.
This will be his place. He'll make it so.
:
Hogwarts was made for him. Every room thrums with different spells. The great hall opens up to the night sky, spelled with complicated charmwork that Tom can't wait to dissect and try to recreate for himself in his room back the orphanage. He'll figure out a way to bypass the underage restriction eventually. While the candles don't provide effective lighting to the hall, Tom appreciates the aesthetic. This hall is meant to impress, to intimidate students with magic. Someday, Tom will do that too.
Beside him, Potter hasn't said a word. Myrtle won't stop pointing up at the ghosts and wondering if they'll give her an autograph. She clings onto Longbottom, unaware of how faint the boy looks with each step into the hall.
The ceremony apparently involves putting on a hat. Tom frowns at the idea of some strange thing digging in his mind. It must be safe if they do this with every student, but still, his thoughts are his own.
"Hufflepuff!" the hat calls after five minutes of sitting on Longbottom's head. The boy bursts into tears and has to be escorted down the steps. Tom wants to roll his eyes. Longbottom's reputation won't recover from that shameless display.
Myrtle Mason gets sorted into Ravenclaw and she nearly tackles the female ghost sitting at that table. Finally, though, Potter gets called. The hall becomes oddly subdued.
"…See you, Tom," he says quietly, like it's goodbye.
Tom frowns. "It's Riddle. Be sure to save me a seat when you're sorted."
Potter gives a shaky nod and walks quietly up the steps, his feet echoing throughout the hall. For the first time, Tom wonders if the surname 'Potter' carries more significance to the wizarding world than he thought. He sees one of the teachers, the one with greasy hair, glower furiously at little Potter while the others look sad or nostalgic. As if they're watching another man.
Tom will have to ask Potter about it later.
Potter's sorting takes the longest out of all the first years. Thirteen minutes.
Finally, the hat says a barely audible, "…Gryffindor…" and the hall claps politely.
Hm. The house of the brave. Not bad. Hogwarts A History had plenty of examples of fine witches and wizards who came from that house. Red isn't Tom's colour and he knows it will clash with Potter's eyes but he'll get used to it. Tom, however, will pull off the colour well.
"Riddle, Tom," the headmaster, Dippet, calls.
He walks up the steps, facing the rows of students below, and nods down at Potter. The hat falls over Tom's eyes like the coming of night.
[Well, well, well,] the hat says, delighted, [this will be an easy sorting. Thank merlin, I don't do well with the complicated cases.]
[Get on with it,] Tom's rude thoughts flow out unchecked.
[Touchy child, aren't you? Extremely clever. You'll do great things, your ambition will change the world. Better be in…]
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat roars and Tom feels something in him fall.
The windows in the great hall crack.
EDITED CHAPTER - Nov 15, 2019