Tom decided that the waiting area was boring, and sighed in relief when Dumbledore called all the first years to line up. He could get a better grasp of his classmates and possible allies or enemies.
Dumbledore began calling people up, one by one. The hat was placed on their heads and soon after, a house was called out. As Tom watched the sorting go on, he noticed that there was a larger number of people going into gryffindor and ravenclaw than into slytherin, or even hufflepuff.
All too soon, Tom's name was being called. He walked to the stool with his head held high and perched himself upon it as he had seen the other purebloods do. Dumbledore, with a smile too cherry to be real, sat the grimy hat on his head.
You, my dear, sweet, summer child, are one of the most interesting children I have ever had the pleasure to meet.
Tom did not squeak. He did not. He was just surprised by the talking hat , and may have expressed that verbally. Does he need to talk out loud or just think?
All you need to do, heir of slytherin, is to think and use that thinker of yours to make a difference. I was created in part by the man, so I know damn well that he would want you in his house, leading his house.
Tom was not liked by authority figures. That was an indisputable fact. To have this hat- a talking hat!- give him more reassurance than the adults in his life made him feel like Hera must. He almost felt like a mist may cover his eyes (It never would. Not anymore.)
And Heir of Slytherin? Tom knew that he had ancient blood of some sort, but Slytherin . That was like a dream come true. He had a claim to essentially a fourth of the English wizarding world.
So
The hat continued on as if not a single thought had passed through Tom's head,
I would suggest Slytherin, and if you have ever used that head of yours you would choose it too, but if you have some burning desire to go to Godric's house then ask away.
Slytherin. Please Hat, I want to- I need to go into slytherin.
There was a noise that sounded almost like a sigh of relief from the hat, then a loud screech of,
"Slytherin!"
Tom stood, plucking the hat off his head and handing it back to Dumbledore. He walked to the slytherin table and sat; he was at the edge of the first years, clearly an outcast among the rest.
The rest of the first years were sorted, Headmaster Dippet made a speech that was all very thought out and organized, and suddenly there was food . There was going to be no more fighting over scraps the way there was at the orphanage. Tom felt almost cheated knowing that there were places like this where no one had to worry about food, no matter the fact that there was an ongoing war.
He ate one of the most filling dinners of his life, ignoring the jabs that made their way down the table. He knew that Nott was behind it, but the hurt, the betrayal was kept inside.
Tom was irritated beyond belief. He was at a school for magic , and yet the idiotic people who built the school could not be bothered to let the various boys have their own rooms. It was disgusting .
There were four pairs of underwear lying on the floor and the boys had only been in the dorm for less than half an hour. Tom knew he had to be relatively relaxed and not pick fights, just until Hera arrived. If she was there he would have an alibi should he need one and she was sweet enough that people would like her and he would get positive attention. (It didn't hurt that she was a secondary heir to one of the most powerful families on the light side of the wizarding world.)
Tom seethed, but pushed his magic out and the underwear was returned to its owner's trunks. He ran his magic over his trunk and found that already there were several layers of malicious magic wrapped around it. He sighed, entwining a chill throughout the magic and tugging gently (the most important thing she had taught him - to be gentle, that is). He pulled the curses (because that's what they were, nasty things) away from the trunk and pulled on them, stretching the magic thin and large, before using a frosty burst of air to lift it up, over onto the canopy over a bed (he did not know who's it was, nor did he care.).
After dealing with the attack (he simmered with rage), he prepared for sleep. After crawling into his bed, Tom wove a web of magic, looping through the bedposts, dipping up, over the canopy, making sure that absolutely nothing (bar Hera) could get through.