Holy hell! I can't believe the response this story has gotten with one chapter. Thank you so much! So many people have already favourited and followed the story and I think that's great. It has motivated me to push through and release this so quickly.
In response to the reviews:
Guest: thank you! There will be times where Tom Riddle seems like he is out of character (like this chapter for instance) but at the end of the day he was a master manipulator and a great actor to achieve what he wanted, so the end result is that he's technically in character, if that makes sense.
Sabel930: Thanks for the review. I'm also loving all these Newt Scamander fanfics that have popped up over the past few weeks, here's hoping it inspires some more.
KirikaAndo: Thanks so much! your review certainly pushed me to release an update so quickly.
September 1, 1944
The first of September was always an important date for any witch or wizard living in Britain. If you weren't going off to Hogwarts yourself, you certainly knew of somebody else who was. For me this year, it was a bittersweet day. This would be the very last time I would board this train to take me off to a new school year. It may have been an exciting time if I had any idea on what I would do after I finished school, but I didn't have that comfort.
I wasn't a strong academic so I didn't have a lot of doors open for me after this year. I was only taking four classes at N.E.W.T. level, my favourite two were Herbology and Care of the Magical Creatures. Unfortunately I had been pushed into adding two other subjects by my head of house, Professor Slughorn. Defence Against the Dark Arts only required an acceptable and I had barely scraped through from my O.W.L year so I took that class as I was eligible. Most surprisingly though, I was doing Transfiguration. I thought I had failed the exam during O.W.L. year but Professor Dumbledore took me aside and said he was willing to give me an acceptable to carry on the subject into the N.E.W.T. years if I promised to keep up with the coursework. I was struggling, but I was keeping up at least.
I was terrible at classroom-based subjects but seemed to be able to grasp the hands-on practical subjects which is why I excelled at Care of the Magical Creatures and Herbology. Sadly for me though, those were the only two hands-on subjects Hogwarts had to offer. Potions was a subject I was adequate in, but I didn't receive the Exceeds Expectations mark to continue the subject into N.E.W.T. level. I only just fell short of Exceeds Expectations by a few marks, but Slughorn wouldn't budge and I was forced to abandon the subject. I think that's exactly why Professor Dumbledore helped me to continue taking Transfiguration.
A lot of people in Slytherin joked that I should have been sorted into Hufflepuff instead as I best suited the Hufflepuff subjects. Being part of the House of Black meant that I was not destined to be sorted into any house but Slytherin, even though I felt I barely fit in with any of the Black family.
I technically wasn't a pureblood, even though there were no muggles or muggle-borns in my parental or maternal lineage. It was a shameful thing to not be completely pure, as the Black family were perhaps the most proud of their pureblood status and for keeping their heritage exclusive. My father had decided to break away from the tradition of wedding someone distantly related to keep the family and the offspring under the same name, blood status and values. My father instead met a Veela during his time spent in Eastern Europe in his youth and they had me. Therefore I was technically a half-blood.
The sad thing was that if a female in the family had ended up with anything but a pure blooded wizard as a suitor she would have been outcast immediately. But as long as a male doesn't marry either a muggle or a muggle-born, the worst that happens is that mean comments are said behind his family's back. Without muggles tarnishing the blood I was pure enough to still be included, but still slight impure and kept at a slight distance. At school although no one went out of their way to be nasty to me, but I knew some of the fellow Slytherins judged me for my father's actions, instead of judging my father. I certainly didn't have the same level of respect as the other members of the Black family in the school. My father didn't seem to despise his Black lineage but at the same time, he didn't embrace it. He purposely ran away to Eastern Europe in his youth to escape being paired to a cousin by his parents.
There was only one trait of the Black family that he had held onto, and had encouraged me to as well.
The Black family were full of strong people. Though in these conservative times the women were regarded as less equal than men, the Black family were known as producing very strong women. My aunts, cousins and grandmother were motivated and had many strengths. Some of these were in homemaking but mainly they were all skilled at both wand work and potion making. Although they were indoctrinated with the family's centuries old beliefs and values they still had goals they strived to meet. My father wanted me to be strong and meet my own personal goals. I didn't feel I had the same strengths as the rest of my family and certainly not the intelligence. The only thing I had (which was conceited to say) was half-Veela blood which gave me fair looks a lot of girls seemed capable of killing for. In my opinion I'd rather have strength and intelligence over looks.
I never enjoyed the train ride back to school. I didn't have many close friends. My surname meant that my fellow Slytherins didn't cause me any grief but it didn't mean they had to like me, or include me in their activities. The girls in my dorm didn't like me due to the way I looked and the boys in my house didn't include me too much as they didn't want to upset the girls, and also because my dad ended up with a Veela and not a well-ranked female in their community. Therefore I usually ended up in a compartment by myself reading a book, with some awkward strangers who would wander in later when the rest of the train was full.
This was the exact same scenario this year. Most seventh year students were laughing and joking with their friends as they caught up and shared stories from their summer. I, on the other hand, was stuck reading a book in a compartment filled with a bunch of third year Ravenclaw boys who were chattering amongst themselves as I quietly sat in the corner reading my book.
"You're really pretty, you know." I heard one of the boys state with a goofy grin on his face.
I looked over from my book and shot him a look, before burying my face into it again. I wasn't even going to acknowledge that with a response.
"Yeah, you are. You should come to Hogsmeade with us sometime this year. It will be our first time." Another one of the boys spoke up in an excited manner.
I wanted to say something but I felt too shy. I got up to excuse myself but before I could leave the compartment a grinning face appeared at the door, the rest of his body on the outside.
"Sorry lads, but you don't stand a chance with the gorgeous Tori Black. I've been trying for years and I'd like to think my luck is still better than yours." The over confident Gryffindor, Andrew Hartwell smirked, aiming his cocky attitude towards both the younger students and myself.
I rolled my eyes and snapped my book shut. Andrew Hartwell had been trying to go out with me since third year and I was well past thinking it had gotten old. He was so outwardly arrogant, I wasn't just trying to be moody or edgy by denying him. It wouldn't work out, I was too shy and quiet for him.
Hartwell was a seventh year student who displayed all the stereotypical Gryffindor traits, with rumours that his family descended from Godric Gryffindor himself, but I wouldn't be surprised if Hartwell made them up. Hartwell was arrogant, cocky, too over-confident and just downright annoying. I even found his appearance bothersome as he was never neatly groomed. His golden brunette hair was styled in a male pompadour fashion which made his pale blue eyes stand out from the rest of his facial features. He could be considered handsome, with boyish charms. But he wasn't a striking-kind of handsome as his features weren't sharp enough. I always found he had a weak jaw which always irritated me but I could never pinpoint why.
I had never cared to get to know Hartwell so I knew little about him. The only thing I knew was that he was an exceptional Quiddich player and was naturally the Gryffindor Quiddich captain. I only knew this because the entire school were always hammering on about his 'phenomenal' skills. I did not care for Quiddich, just as I did not care for Hartwell.
"Actually Hartwell, these boys probably have a better shot than you, but I'm not sticking around to find out." I stated loudly in disapproval as I put my book back into my book bag and dramatically got up and stormed out of the compartment and down the carriage.
I wasn't expecting Andrew to follow me but moments later I heard him call my name, tailing me as I tried to find a compartment that would stop Andrew from following me in.
"Hey Tori, please wait. I've stopped the constant requests for you to escort me on a date and now only do it on a quarterly basis. You need to hear me out if you want to be left alone for the next three months." Andrew said behind her.
"Fine then. You have a minute. Sixty seconds." I said to Andrew through gritted teeth, wanting to get this over and done with so I would be left alone for the next few months.
"Great! Well. Argument one, I was the first boy to ask you out. It shows I like you for your personality and not your looks, as I clearly was there for you way before anywhere else, which can be included as my second argument. Thirdly, I'm the most ambitious, I'm the only one who keeps coming back for more after many, many rejections. This shows-" Andrew explained, but I cut him off suddenly.
"…and time is up, it's been sixty seconds. Answer is still no." I smugly informed Andrew. I went to stalk off once more but he grabbed my wrist to keep me in place so he could continue talking to me. I felt it was a fairly creepy move on his behalf, but he kept it held lightly so it didn't hurt me, and so I could break away if I really wanted to. I also knew his goofy nature and knew he didn't mean to be demanding or controlling.
"Aw, come on. One last reason, you feel sorry for me. Not due to all the rejections, but because I lost out on being Head Boy to Riddle. That also isn't the main problem, the main problem is that I'm still a Prefect so it means I report to him and he essentially controls me. " Andrew complained wildly.
"I'd love to make some witty remark on that, Hartwell. However I must request that you let Miss Victoria Black go as what you're doing constitutes as harassment." A very formal Tom Riddle proclaimed, coming out of a nearby compartment and I realised he must have heard Andrew bad mouthing him.
Tom Riddle was almost the polar opposite of Andrew Hartwell. Where Hartwell enjoyed athletic success, Riddle enjoyed academic success. The differences did not stop there. Riddle had strong sought-after features, sharp jaw, defined face and even prominent cheekbones. His eyes were dark but striking. He was also well groomed at all times. His hair was always combed neatly into a fashionable wave hairstyle and I'd never seen a hair out of place. Tom Riddle was nothing short of breathtakingly handsome.
"Whatever." Andrew scoffed, sending me a last wink before he disappeared into the sea of students that were walking up and down the carriage trying to speak to as many friends as possible.
I awkwardly scratched my arm under Tom Riddle's gaze, he was staring at me and I felt uncomfortable. I sometimes spoke to him in passing but every time I did I felt ungraceful. Not only was he the most handsome boy you would ever lay eyes on, he was also highly charming and intelligent. He excelled in all of the difficult subjects such as Transfiguration and Charms, and he also took hard electives such as Arithmancy. Every time we had a small conversation I felt inadequate. He spoke with such grace and wit, and I spoke so incoherently compared to him. Having Veela blood running through my veins meant nothing when speaking to the most sought after boy at Hogwarts.
My feelings of inadequacies were not due to a school girl crush, as I certainly didn't obsess over Riddle. It was due to his charms and his popularity status making me feel incompetent, as I almost felt everyone judging me every time I was in his presence. He was perfection.
"Are you alright, Victoria?" Tom asked me with concern, grabbing my wrist as he inspected where Hartwell had been holding onto me to check for any signs of injury.
"I'm fine. As long as you call me Tori, and not by my full name. Only my parents do, it feels weird coming from someone else." I giggled, playfully touching Tom on his arm.
"Fine then. Are you alright, Tori?" Tom asked me, a wide smile plastered on his face, moving his hand from inspecting my arm to put my hand into his own.
"I'm fine. It'll take more than a silly Gryffindor to bring me down." I coyly responded, taking a while to retreat my hand from his as I started to walk backwards, suddenly registering what was happening between the two of us. I backed off until I felt my back touch the wall of the train carriage corridor.
Tom seemed to understand I was backing off and sent me a small smile, cocking his head a little as he watched over me silently. I bit my lip, for once not feeling insecure in his presence but growing excited. I could feel him staring, almost as if he was staring into my soul. It made me feel flattered to receive attention from him.
"Well I better get off to the Prefects carriage. I hope to see you many times this year, Tori." Tom smiled at me, giving me a head nod before he left to go into the opposite direction.
When I made sure he was out of both sight and earshot I let out a very loud sigh and slid my back down the wall of the hallway until I reached the bottom and remained there, sitting as a few disgruntled students had to walk around me.
When I was younger my mother taught me about what having Veela genes would mean. Full blooded Veela could dance and enchant almost any man, making them do stupid things to get the attention of the Veela. This gift didn't extend to those who were half-Veela or less, which actually made me fairly happy as I wouldn't want that kind of life. However it did apparently give me a few charismatic skills should I try to utilise those powers. Throughout my teenage years my mother had been attempting to show me how to use these powers but I always brushed her off. I didn't want powers that helped me use good looks, I wanted to develop substance and intelligence.
Until right now. Tom Riddle was just flirting with me, and I flirted with him right back. I had never felt such intimate feelings towards the opposite sex before. I almost felt a yearning towards enhancing this charismatic gift I had inherited, a hunger to stalk down another suitable young man to try flirting on.
I let out a huge moan as the feelings disappeared as soon as they grew, covering my face with my hands. I felt really conflicted right now, my mind was completely cloudy and I didn't know why.
I heard loud clunky footsteps approach. I could tell they were different from all the students scurrying up and down the corridor as these footsteps were a lot heavier and the sound stopped right in front of me. I removed my hands from my face and saw a Slytherin boy in my year named Rangvald Lestrange in front of me, shooting me the filthiest look he could muster.
"Black, get your sorry behind off that floor this instant. This is not how a respectful woman in our powerful circle behaves." He sneered at me, and to me utter surprise gave me a light kick to my ribs.
His intention was to shock me rather than hurt me, which worked. No pain ran through me but I gasped as I raced my hands to my torso in fright. He sneered and growled one more time for me to "get up" before he stalked away moodily.
I jumped up immediately in case he came back. I didn't dare try and untuck my shirt to see if any bruising was developing as I didn't want to show any skin but I pressed onto the spot where he had kicked. It hurt a little, it may be bruised but at least nothing was broken. There would be no need for a trip to the Hospital Wing upon arrival at the school.
I once again got out my book and went to go find a compartment that was half empty. I certainly now didn't want to bring attention to myself, in fear of being kicked by someone who deemed it necessary if I was acting inappropriately.