Layla Colby was brought back to reality by the laughter of the students at the four long tables. She had been staring at the enchanted ceiling with her mouth wide open, which prevented her from noticing Professor Dumbledore, patiently awaiting for her to come forward and put on the Sorting Hat. In their exchange of letters, Dumbledore had warned her that if she ever transferred to Hogwarts, she would have to attend the Sorting Ceremony amongst the first-year students. And so, with hundreds of eyes pointed at her, the girl sat nervously on the stool. When she wore the Hat, it comically fell over her eyes and hid half of her face.
A lively chatter arose among the tables. She could distinguish phrases like, "Isn't she too big to be a first-year?" and "Maybe she's just very tall, a half-giant," and again, "Bonkers! She's a new student from Ilvermorny, we met her on the train." Layla smiled amusedly, hearing how those prying students wouldn't even bother to lower their voices.
Suddenly, someone asked, "Why is this taking so long?" Which made Layla's posture even more tense. Indeed it must have already been five minutes and the Sorting Hat hadn't uttered a word. A hollow feeling in her stomach reminded her to focus on the reason why she was there. What if she ended up in a different House?
She focused on the last thing she had seen before that worn-out hat obscured everything: her own eyes, staring at her like poisoned arrows from the table of...
"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat shouted. The green-silver table applauded unenthusiastically. Tom and his gang didn't even bother to applaud; instead, they gave her chilling looks. Their haughty posture, rigid shoulders, and curled lips of disgust gave them an air of arrogant superiority. Layla tightened the pendant she wore around her neck, the relic of Salazar Slytherin, from whom, according to her research, her maternal family descended. Then she slipped it inside her shirt. She wouldn't allow Tom to tear it off her neck, as he had attempted to do a few hours earlier on the train.
Thanks to the intense training with the Wampus, which had made her more agile and quick over the years, the girl managed to elude her brother's friends who had tried to chase her down, earlier that day. After a few meters of pursuit along the train's corridors, they had given up. Perhaps it was Tom who had called them off.
"My dear students! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," Headmaster Armando Dippet spoke. "I hope all of you have rested well enough this summer. One of the announcements of this year is that we have a student who has just transferred from the American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ilvermorny, she will remain with us until the end of her schooling. I expect you all to treat her kindly and show her what Hogwarts students are capable of. We wouldn't want to embarrass ourselves in front of our American counterparts, would we? And then the Divination professor..."
"So you're the student from Ilvermorny everyone was talking about on the train?"
"And tell us, how is it?"
"Which House did you end up in?"
Many Slytherins asked simultaneously. Layla had chosen one of the seats farthest from Riddle, who continued to give her sideways glances, a small inquisitive wrinkle had appeared on his forehead.
"Yes, um, Wampus..." Layla said, redirecting her attention to the students surrounding her. The Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors from the other tables were pointing at her, craning their necks to get a better look. She immersed herself in a long and detailed description of her previous school's building, the four Houses, the classes, the dormitories, and much more, until she received a parchment from Professor Dumbledore during dessert, requesting her presence in his office.
Professor Dumbledore greeted her with a big smile. They had never met before that moment, but she had seen his image in the textbooks of Ilvermorny, and he gave her the impression of being a very kind and wise man. The professor's office was a very peaceful place. On the shelves, there were all sorts of extravagant objects that the witch had never seen in her life. She wondered if the man himself had invented them. After all, even in America, it was known that Albus Dumbledore was a genius with multiple innate talents.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Colby. I hope you enjoyed the feast," Dumbledore said, looking cheerful over his half-moon glasses.
"Of course, sir, it was all delicious. I didn't have time to taste everything, but I will take care of that. English food is delicious" she replied delightfully.
"I trust you had time to have a chat with Mr. Riddle already" he questioned arching an eyebrow.
"Not quite, professor. I mean I tried to, but..." she replied contemplative, wanting to add more, but not knowing how.
"Well, I had time to think about the matter, and I believe it's best for me to be present when you tell him what's going on. You see, I was the one to tell Tom about the magic world on his 11th birthday, and the boy I met a few years back was distrustful and cautious. I am not aware if he has changed in the past years, but if he hasn't, well, me being here would certainly avoid us all useless suspicions and wasted time. Hence there's nothing more beautiful than family, and nothing more awful than going about our days without it".
Layla smiled amiably at those words, then, someone knocked on the office's door, and Layla felt her stomach clench. Her twin entered, stopped, and exchanged a bewildered glance with Dumbledore.
"Professor, you sent for me?" the Slytherin asked without changing his expression, which bordered on dismay.
"Oh, yes, Tom, come in, my boy, close the door."
Tom closed the door gently and stared at the newcomer, even though his interlocutor was Dumbledore. "Professor?" he asked, not taking his pale eyes off Layla, who stared back expressionless.
"Have a seat, both of you," said professor Dumbledore calmly. The witch complied, whilst Tom was more reluctant to follow the order. However, in the end, he rigidly settled into the second comfortable armchair positioned in front of the desk.
"Tom, this young lady wrote me a letter over five months ago, asking for information about your orphanage, saying something quite peculiar. In short, her Muggle parents—" Tom's jaw clenched for a brief moment—"are actually her adoptive parents, and her real last name is Riddle. I have personally looked into the matter, and I can confirm, Tom, that this young woman is your sister, your twin sister to be precise." Riddle looked at Dumbledore as if he thought the wizard had finally, completely lost his mind. Then he started laughing, not in a joyful laugh, but a rather mocking one.
The witch stared at her twin with the expression of someone who had just been slapped in the face. This wasn't how she had imagined the moment of truth. That laughter was unasked for.
"Tom!" Dumbledore admonished him with an enigmatic expression.
"Professor, I'm not the guy who understands this type... I mean... jokes in general. Isn't this sort of 'banter' too much...? Sir."
"I would never dare to joke about such matters, young man. I wonder if your perception of me is truly so distorted."
Riddle hinted at another laugh, but an ambiguous glimmer in the professor's clear eyes made him stop abruptly. The boy's demeanour suddenly changed, and Layla had the impression that he was in a state of shock. Tom looked at her without blinking, then he stood up and moved backwards until he bumped against the shelves filled with books and papers. He appeared panicked.
"This can't be... this is not possible," he whispered to himself, no longer looking at the other two.
"Tom..." Layla uttered softly his name, almost in a whisper, perhaps not even wanting him to hear it, but he did, and a look filled with reservation and mistrust hit the poor girl straight in the chest.
"Prove it to me... I mean, professor, how can I believe her?" the Slytherin asked, pointing at the girl as if she were some kind of monstrous creature. "She could be lying" he added, this last sentence made both Layla and the professor frown. Dumbledore's expression exuded a melancholic apprehension that that boy hasn't changed after all.
"I will need two drops of your blood, one here and one here.
If mr. Riddle wants assurance. I believe, miss Colby, that we cannot deny him that," the man said, waiting for the two to approach, each taking their own time and letting their index fingers be pricked.
When it was Riddle's turn, it almost seemed as if losing a drop of blood to confirm whether that was or wasn't the family he never had was an insult to his persona. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the white marble tablet adorned with two distant, dark red dots.
"You both know how the spell works - Layla nodded, lost in thought, while Tom narrowed his eyes as if expecting the two drops of blood to never merge - Sanguinem non Mentior!" the professor pronounced.
The two drops of blood merged into a single red blotch, which burned and transformed into small green sparks. Layla smiled weakly but immediately changed her expression when she saw Tom approach the table so closely to almost touch it with his nose. He still couldn't believe it... despite the blood spell, the only magic that one could never deceive."Blood never lies...ever," Dumbledore whispered, looking at Riddle with a mixture of hesitation and dark curiosity. Almost as if feeling the weight of the wizard's judgment, Riddle, once again, changed his expression and smiled. Then, he looked at his twin sister, took a determined step towards her, and embraced her. The girl was incredulous, her eyes were teary.
Just a few seconds earlier, she had desired nothing more than to return back home, and beg her Muggle parents to pack their bags and return to America. But in that embrace, she felt reborn, enveloped in her brother's strong arms. Dumbledore didn't interrupt them, but he continued observing Riddle meticulously."Now it's time for you to return to your dormitory. You have plenty to talk about. However, I advise you to be fresh for tomorrow's classes, so don't stay up too late," Dumbledore dismissed them. When they left the office, Layla had the feeling that the wizard was far from pleased with that encounter. However, with her heart ablaze, her head in the clouds, and her gaze blurred by joy, she didn't dwell on that detail.
She tried to quicken her pace to keep up with Tom's hyperactive rhythm.
"Tom, you have no idea how many things I have to tell you..." the girl never finished that sentence because, as soon as they turned the corner, Tom slammed her forcefully against the wall, placed a hand over her mouth, and hissed: "you must stay away from me." As her eyes filled with pain, his were injected with pure venom. Tears of dismay brushed against Tom's hand. Disgusted, he detached himself from his twin, whilst his imposing eyes watched her slide down against the cold wall.