Chapter 6: The Final Start

Sorry I missed a day. I'm busy a bit early. :P It's not fun, but I'm trying. In all honesty, I am procrastinating by writing this chapter. Terrible of me, but I have to get it done.

"The truth is
I don't stand a chance
It's something that your born into
And I just don't belong
No I don't
I'm just a low-class beat down fool
And I will always be that way"

-Beverly Hills by Wheezer

Nanda's POV:

Aunt Hermione had already told us what we were to do, and the hat had already sung its song. A few people had already gone up, but I hadn't been paying attention to whom, or where they went. I was too stuck on the stanzas of the Hat's song about Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"Codnor, Marcie." Aunt Hermione called.

Marcie went up to the hat, a small smile on her face, as if she was trying to hold in her excitement. She sat down on the stool, and the hat was placed on her head. The hat was quiet a moment, and Marcie smiled bigger. Why on Earth would she be smiling?

"GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat shouted. There was an eruption or applause from the Gryffindor table to our right, and so when I sighed, I couldn't even hear myself. I wanted to be in Gryffindor, but I wasn't anything like Marcie.

"Hood, Trevor."

Another pause for thought (if the Sorting Hat could think, which I supposed it could), before a loud, "HUFFLEPUFF!" made me jump out of my skin, and the table just to our left cheered. I swear, I'm going to be half deaf after this…

I pretty much ignored most of what went on, fading in and out of focus, but occasionally catching the name of others and where they went, but never taking note of anything. If nothing else, I was too nervous to think any real, solid thought; it was more of just little wisps or worries that passed through.

"Kirk, Purkiss."

"GRYFFINDOR!" (*loud cheering*)

"Malfoy, Scorpius."

Malfoy rose from the crowd, and sat on the stool. I watched him intently, hoping with all my heart he would be a Hufflepuff. I highly doubted he would be a Gryffindor. He was nothing like a Gryffindor, if not, the complete opposite.

"SLYTHERIN!" (*more loud cheering*)

I hate him, I thought. I didn't want to be a Slytherin if he was one. It would be just awful if I had to share a room with him. And that only slimmed my chances of being happy with whichever house I was put in.

"Pyrites, Pricilla."

I tuned out again. I have a 75 percent chance of not being in Gryffindor. And at this point, I'm hoping the odds are in my favor. Would you risk being a Slytherin, knowing very well that Scorpius was in there, just to please your dad? The thought simmered. Absolutely. But of course, I was never as lucky as my papa.

"Riddle, Nanda."

And of course, everyone gasps… I sighed and walked up to the stool. I was so nervous, I was sure I would collapse. Aunt Hermione smiled at me (which she hadn't done for the others, might I add) and put the hat on my head. 'Good luck' she whispered.

The hat was like any old hat, really. And by old, I mean ancient. It smelled awful. I would need to remember to wash my hair later.

'How rude.' The hat said in my head. 'Now, boy, let me see what is in your head… Ah yes, I see so much talent. Your fathers have rubbed off on you, but will you follow in their footsteps?'

Oh, yes please, I told it.

'But, of course, you may have a better fit somewhere else. A lovely mind for thoughts, and a vast amount of creativity. I do see you are very loyal, however. Yes…better be…' "RAVENCLAW!" it yelled out to the room.

My heart just about sunk. It was worse than any ship in history had ever sunk before. It had been a beautiful, glorious ship that carried an entire country of hope and excitement on it. Its floors were shiny and always clean, with only the occasional spray of ocean mist on them that quickly vanished, but left behind its lovely scent. The captain was a kind, and friendly fellow, who always had a wonderful story to share about the many places he has been, and the notable people he has met, with a slight blush to his cheeks that made his experienced face seem young and alive. Like any ship, it wasn't indestructible, but the cheer in the air made it as nothing could ever put a scratch on it. And then a large wave came, and the ship was pushed right onto a sharp rock, which pierced its hull, and sent the thousands or happy people into the rocky waters where villainous sharks waited below, smelling blood within their waters, and the kind captain stayed with his boat, that had been with him most of his life; it was his first, and last, love. The chaotic sea that had once been his friend was now the very thing that brought his end to him now. A once heavenly ship was now nothing more than small bits and pieces of wood that had been a lovely part of such an amazing thing. There was no such thing as remains, just as there was no such thing as survivors.

Somehow or another, I had made it to the end of the Ravenclaw table, at the very back of the room. The closest person to me was about five feet away, looking a bit squished, but otherwise comfortable with their distance.

"Scamander, Lorcan."

I couldn't feel my head. Was it attached to my neck? I wasn't quite sure. My hands wouldn't move to find out. I was pretty much numb.

"RAVENCLAW!" (*cheering at my table*)

Oh joy… I sighed as one creepy twin made their way to my side to sit. And I bet the other will soon follow…

"Scamander, Lysander."

I was sure of it. There was no possible way they could be more similar.

"RAVENCLAW!" (*more cheering at my table*)

And the other creepy twin made his way to my other side. At least I have friends now. I sighed. But I would still have to tell my dads.

3rd Person POV:

After being shown to his room, he was relieved at least a bit. He wouldn't be sharing a room with the odd twins, but two other Ravenclaw boys. One was Grant (He didn't dare ask his last name, because he often gave Nanda very intimidating looks), who had short black hair, a large build (he was twice his size, if not three), with black eyes that shot daggers like a highly trained assassin. The other was Vanan Auva, who had a friendly smile, slightly tousled blonde hair, and grey-blue eyes. He was very… (how to put this lightly…) nerdy. He had read every single page of their school books already, and had started reading some of the second year books. Nanda had asked him about what he liked to do, and he went into a long spiel about how he had noticed hardback books always have a better smell than paperback books (whatever that meant), which had stemmed from his talk about his love for reading and smelling books, but eventually turned into the odd looks he got from the people at the library when he smelled books, but of course the librarian always understood him, and did he know that he once met a librarian who only bought books that smelt good for her library, and he has this wonderful book at home called "Pages for the Nose" that smells glorious…

Nanda buried his face in his pillow and tried for a moment to stop breathing (just for long enough so he would fall unconscious), but of course, he had no discipline for his lungs like that; he was a player of instruments, not a singer, after all. Vanan's voice continued on still, even if he had stopped listening a while ago, but Grant just sat on his bed, most likely with the same thoughts going through his mind (when will that boy shut up? He has to get tired of talking eventually…). Nanda wasn't tired in the least, but he hoped and wished that it would overcome him at once. But of course…

"Nanda?" Vanan said. "I'm sure you've a favorite hobby. Tell me about it."

He was relieved Vanan had stopped talking, but wasn't sure he really wanted to share his passion with anyone just yet. Then again, would he want Vanan to keep talking about his hobbies instead? That was an easy question to answer.

"Oh, well" He sat upright. "I'm a bit of a music fan."

Vanan's eyes brightened. "Oh really? What instruments do you play?"

Nanda shrugged. "All of them?"

Vanan stared a moment at him before smiling. "Surely you haven't had lessons for every instrument known to man. That would take many years. More than you have had."

"Well, no. I haven't had lessons at all."

Vanan was confused, but mostly intrigued. "Then how do you play any instrument?"

Nanda shrugged again. "I just feel it."

Vanan's narrowed eyes studied him, and Nanda was no more comfortable than he was with the twins at his sides. He looked about the room, taking in the blue and black and greyness to it. His thoughts wondered to his life before Hogwarts, and wondered if this was all worth it. Of course it is, he convinced himself. This is my chance to prove myself. He knew all of that; he'd only told himself that a million times. But there was a small minority of his mind, one that held his true thoughts and feelings apart from his logic. 'But I don't need to prove myself…I just want to play music, and listen to music, and live and breathe music…for all of my life…' But he wouldn't allow himself such a luxury when he had things to accomplish.

"So…Grant, what do you like to do? I'm sure you have a favorite pass-time." Vanan said at last. Nanda shook his head slightly, dreading the answer Vanan might get from him.

Grant merely stared at the ceiling above them. "I like birds," he said simply. Nanda was sure he misheard him. Did he just say he liked birds? Like, with wings and beaks, birds? That fly through the air? It was an odd thing. But then again, he might not be as awful as his looks show. He is a Ravenclaw, so he should be smart, and smart people aren't (usually) violent.

Vanan smiled. "What sort of birds" What do find so fascinating about them?"

Grant sighed. "Back at home, I have a whole shed full of different types of birds. Owls, parrots, parakeets, ravens, crows, pigeons, blue birds, eagles, hawks, vultures, mockingbirds… I care for them. Make sure they don't eat each other. Help the small ones fly, and release them when they can care for themselves."

"That's fascinating. You know, I once read a book about birds that explained how they have hollow bones in their wings, and that's why they are light enough to fly. It smelled like thick mist, which I found odd. Why a book about birds smell like that I have no idea…"

He rambled on again and Nanda put his face back into the pillow. If he ever needed some information about books that smell a certain way, he would be sure to ask Vanan first.

"…and my mother said maybe it was some sort of procedure they performed at the printing st-"

"Your owl is hungry." Grant interrupted.

Vanan sputtered to a stop. "W-what?"

Grant looked over to Nanda, whose lungs were once again straining to breathe in oxygen through the fibers of his new pillow. "Your owl, Nanda. He's hungry. You should give him a rat or something."

Nanda lifted himself up and looked over to his owl in its cage. Sparo had his face close to the cage, occasionally pecking it with his beak, and then squawking at its solidness; his little bowl of owl food (he wasn't quite sure what it was, but it looked like hamster food) forgotten. Nanda looked back to Grant. "I don't have a rat. How do I get one?"

"I don't know. Ask book-brains over there. I'm more than sure he's smelt a book on how to catch rats before."

"Oh yes!" Vanan erupted, completely ignoring any and all teasing and sarcasm that may have come from Grant. "It was wonderful! Like walking into a museum. History had made its way into its odor."

That sounded quite disgusting to Nanda, but Vanan seemed to enjoy it. "Oh. Alright. How do you catch a rat?"

"The book said a nice piece of food in a small corner would be the perfect way to catch one. Just right underneath a box held up by a stick with a rope to put it so that it lands on the rat, and it's trapped."

"Simple enough," said Grant.

"Oh yes, but where do we get a box, a stick, a rope, and a piece of food?" Vanan asked.

Nanda smiled big and cupped his hands together, focusing his magic on condensing to make the oh so familiar ball of moldable light. "I have that covered."

Harry's POV:

"Tooooooomm!" I groaned. We had done nothing all day (and by we, I mean me). I just lay on the bed, my face still in my silk pillow. I felt so depleted.

Tom came over to my side of the bed and sat next to me. "Yes, love?"

"I miss our pup."

Tom's hand ran down my back to comfort me, sending chills down my spine. "I do too, love."

"Can we have him back?"

Tom chuckled. "No. He is at school now."

I huffed, but decided to try and pull myself out of this horrid state. "He's probably at the Gryffindor table right now, smiling and talking to his new friends."

Tom stopped petting my back. "I can assure you," he said playfully, "that he is more likely to be sitting among his fellow Slytherin."

I flipped over, a smile on my face. "He would more likely have a pet dragon that breathes fairy dust than be at the Slytherin table."

"When did you get him a dragon? Love, I told you we must discuss what we get him before we get them."

I laughed, picking up the pillow and tossing it at his face. He laughed as well, sending another one my way. A full out pillow war began. We tossed pillows back and forth, laughing and uttering catch-phrases, such as "Take that" and "I'll get you". I stopped throwing to catch my breath from laughing so hard, only to have it taken away again by Tom's lips on mine. I smiled against them and wrapped my arms around his neck. It had been so long since we had been in the house by ourselves, and we had always been afraid of him walking in, or hearing us, if we did anything too intimate (I wasn't very quiet after all). And now we had the whole manor. Tom nibbled down my neck, sending pure excitement throughout my body.

Tom was my mine, and I wanted him. Right now.

I let out a moan and my hips bucked underneath him. He took the hint, and no more than a second later, our clothes were off. It seemed as if we had been together forever, but I the way I felt seeing his bare skin never changed. I let my hands slide down his chest, feeling every muscle in its path tense or relax, like feeling down the body of a snake, but smoother, and warm. His lips made it to my nipple, where his tongue flipped over it playfully, making it hard, and sending unbearable urges my way. My cock was throbbing with hardness and anticipation. Tom barely brushed it with his thigh, and I hissed with pleasure.

"I want you inside me." I groaned.

Tom's delicate fingers traced their way down my sides to my groin, playing with my ball sack. My breathing was heavy, and my hips bucked again. He was so painfully teasing me. His hand made its way to my manhood, and wrapped around it. He moved it down, so agonizingly slow, to the bottom, and then placed his mouth over my tip, flicking his tongue. I squirmed and let lose a small moan. 'Yesss' was all I could hiss with the breath gone from my lungs. He pressed his mouth down further and his hand pushed up, only to go the opposite way again when they met. My nails dug into the bed, like claws. Tom released my cock, and I whimpered. I needed him so badly.

Instead of pressing into me, he straddled my lap, carefully placed himself on me, eliciting a moan from us both. "You're so bloody fucking tight." He moved, ever so slightly, and I gasped. I could feel me inside of him, and it was intoxicating. He groaned softly as he rocked back and forth on top of me. He looked so wonderfully amazing like this; I almost came just by looking at him. He rolled his head back and slowed down, but I couldn't bear waiting any longer.

I flipped us so he lay with his back on the bed, and I stood in between his legs, without ever pulling out. He put his hands on my shoulders, trying to brace himself as I pushed in as far as I could. His nails cut into my skin, but I could barely tell; every feeling was pleasure with him. I moaned loudly, as I made love to him, and my skin was so hot I began to sweat. I was so close, but I held it in. With my last bit of energy, I grabbed Tom's cock and tugged on it, matching the rhythm of my thrusting. His hips bucked against mine, sending a shock so large through me. I came with a loud "TOM", and released my load inside him. I rode out the last, lingering waves while still tugging on Tom's hard member. He groaned and whispered my name repeatedly.

"Harry…oommmhh, Harry…"

He came all over his stomach. I smiled and used a quick cleaning spell on us both before collapsing on top of him. We lay in a naked heap, regulating our breathing and just enjoying each other's company in silence, like we always used to. It was a nice moment, just to relax, but of course, my thoughts had to ruin it.

"Tom" I said, looking into his gorgeous, soft crimson eyes. "I know we've really hoped Nanda would be in our houses at Hogwarts, but I'm afraid he will only be more like me if he's a Gryffindor. He's going to get into trouble, and do risky things, and get into fights… I don't want him to be like me."

Tom smiled somberly and stroked my cheek. "Love, he will be in whatever house suits him. We have no control over that, only he does. And I think you doubt yourself. Have we not raised him well enough to prevent him from self-destructing?"

I sighed. "I know we have. I know things are so much different for him than they were for me. But that doesn't stop me from worrying. My instincts are never wrong, Tom. Something is going to happen, and I'm afraid it's going to happen to him." I grabbed his hand that was on my cheek and squeezed it. 'I just want to keep him safe,' I whispered.

Tom shushed me quietly and placed a tender kiss to my lips. "He will be just fine, love. He is safe where he is, and we are safe where we are. Nanda is perfectly capable of handling anything that may be heading his way, as are we."

I placed my head on his shoulder. 'I hope your right, love.'

Severus Snape's POV:

I sighed once more and rubbed at my temples. I was pacing the room so quickly, I felt ever so slightly light headed, but I over looked such a small detail. There were more important things to attend to, especially now. School had just started, and the students were so unaware of the threat that may or may not be lingering over their heads. Even their parents had no idea of these troubles. I was one of the only knowledgeable people, and I could thank my previous occupation for that. There was so much uncertainty with this; it could very well not be a threat to us at all, and I could just go about my duties as headmaster, or it could put Hogwarts in such danger, more than it ever had been (even when Tom Riddle was the Dark Lord). I had to decide what to do about this, and I had to decide as quickly as possible, for each moment could very well be a crucial one.

Walking back over to my desk, I picked up the parchment letter and read it over once more, studying it intensely. When it had arrived by hawk, I knew it was something out of place. I nearly dropped it after reading it the first time, for my hands shook violently; I was shocked (to say the least) of receiving such a thing. But as I continued to reread it, something about it did not make sense. Why would I be sent such a letter?

I needed more time to think, and more opinions on this matter. At the moment, I had neither, but of course, I might never get the first. Time was of the essence, and so I needed the opinions as soon as possible. I quickly sent a Patronus message to Hermione, head professor of Gryffindor and my most trusted to help deal with sticky situations like this (she had, of course, helped with such things throughout her school years), not to mention her (*clears throat*) intelligence level is far superior to those of others that may be available to me at this moment. Except maybe two people…

As my doe went off, I disapparated to the very place where those people would be: Riddle Manor.

Cliff hanger! :) Just enough to keep you wondering.

Now on a more serious note, I have no idea when I might update next, but I'll try my hardest. It will definitely be within the next week. I'll update ASAP! :) Thanks for reading. Please review if you can!