Chapter 2: A Divided Loyalty

September 1st, 1943

Ada stood at the front of the Great Hall, keenly aware of the stark contrast between herself and the young first-years encircling her. The grandeur of the hall and the imposing presence of the other students overwhelmed her, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She felt rather foolish, how could she have thought she could pass unnoticed among the other sixth-year students, blending in with them as if she had always been there?

She recalled the moment she had stepped into the castle, to be immediately greeted by a tall, thin man with a crooked nose and a red beard streaked with gray. His blue eyes matched the intense hue of his robes, beneath a pair of half-moon spectacles.

"Miss Burke, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Albus Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster, and your Transfiguration professor," the man introduced himself with a warm smile. "Welcome to Hogwarts," he added when Ada remained reticent. She recognized his name, one that had been whispered and exchanged with worried glances by those in her past.

"Thank you," she replied softly, attempting to muster a smile that might have ended up resembling an awkward sneer. Nevertheless, the man seemed unfazed by her peculiar demeanor.

"If you would please follow me, Miss Burke," he continued, guiding her as they walked away from the other students. "I am not sure how much you know about our school, but you will be sorted into one of our four houses, which will become your family during your time here: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and..."

"Slytherin," Ada completed his sentence absentmindedly, her eyes drifting back to Marie. She, alongside the Malfoy girls, had been joined by other students, their green and silver uniforms glistening under the chandeliers. Marie caught her glance and she smiled warmly, nodding reassuringly when she noticed Dumbledore standing next to Ada.

"Correct, Miss Burke. It seems you are more informed than Headmaster Dippet assumed," Dumbledore remarked, amused, a hand combing through his short beard. "Now for the Sorting itself, you will join the first-year students. But do not worry, Miss Burke. I have arranged for you to be first, as I'm assuming your height difference will attract quite a few curious glances."

Dumbledore had then led her through a side entrance into the Great Hall before he departed to retrieve the first-year students. As she stepped into the vast hall, she observed the enchanted ceiling, which resembled the starry night sky, adorned with floating candles. To her right, a long table stood higher than the rest, facing the other four tables where students were taking their seats. At the head of this high table, a golden throne-like chair stood, and upon it sat a frail-looking old man, he was balding with only a few wisps of white hair remaining. Ada assumed this could only be Headmaster Dippet, whom Dumbledore had previously mentioned.

Shortly, Dippet stood up and walked to the podium at the front of the hall, his voice a thin, creaky whisper, only audible to all due to an amplification spell. He greeted the students, reminding them to behave during the term, and called for applause to welcome the new first-years.

Ada watched as the great doors at the end of the hall swung open, revealing Dumbledore leading a group of children. As they reached the head of the hall, Ada finally noticed there was a stool placed there, upon which rested an old, battered hat.

Dumbledore signaled for her to approach, and she found herself standing awkwardly among the younger students, conscious of the scrutinizing gazes directed her way.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. This is the Sorting Hat, and it will determine the right House for each of you," Dumbledore explained, gesturing toward the ancient thing on the stool, which surprisingly burst into song.

"Oh, gather 'round, young witches, wizards so dear,

It's time for the sorting, there's nothing to fear.

In Slytherin, cunning finds its place,

With ambition, you'll set a thrilling pace,

But if bravery's your heart's delight,

Gryffindor's where you'll shine so bright!

For Hufflepuff, loyalty's the key,

With kindness and patience, you'll always be free,

And if wisdom's what you're searching for,

Ravenclaw's house, you'll truly adore!

Now, to a new year, a journey awaits,

May your house be your home, at its gates,

With qualities unique, you'll surely go far,

In Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, or even Ravenclaw's star!"

The students and teachers joined in a round of applause, and after the noise subsided, Dumbledore spoke again, addressing them directly.

"When I call your name, please come and sit here," he instructed as he carefully grabbed the hat with one hand, and with the other he pointed at the now empty seat next to him. He continued, now addressing the rest of the school, "This year, we also have a new sixth-year student joining us: Adelaide Burke."

Ada felt her heart race as Dumbledore called her full name. She had anticipated this moment but was not prepared for the intense scrutiny. Nervously, Ada took the few steps necessary to fill the gap between her and the professor, aware of the eyes upon her as she sat down. The worn hat was placed upon her head, and a voice soon echoed within her mind.

"Ah, a Burke, I see, a legacy of Slytherin, where you could be. Cunning and ambition, you possess them too, but there's another side, a daring bravery that burns within. You've faced challenges and stood tall, a Gryffindor's courage, strong and bright. What say you, my dear? Where shall you find your light?"

Anxiety welled up in Ada at the mention of Gryffindor House. Surely, the hat couldn't be suggesting that as the right choice.

"I sense your hesitation, the weight of your name. The expectations of family... But remember it's your heart that decides. Gryffindor's an option, a chance to be free."

In that moment, Ada's thoughts turned to her mother—the last time she had seen her, the memory teetering on the edge of her recollection. She wondered what her mother would have wanted for her.

The hat's voice rang out through the hall as it made its decision, and Ada's fate was sealed.

"Gryffindor!"

…….

Tom entered the Slytherin common room with purpose, accompanied by a plump and quiet girl who promptly headed for the dormitories. As he glanced around, he found the room nearly deserted, save for a couple of girls by the fireplace. He was grateful that the newly appointed fifth-year prefects were tasked with guiding the first-years to their common room, leaving Tom with the peaceful duty of patrolling the halls. Gwendolyn Carrow, his prefect counterpart, was a timid and introverted girl who rarely spoke to him or anyone else. Tom saw her silence as a welcome trait, allowing him to be alone with his thoughts during their duties together.

"I can't believe she allowed herself to be sorted in Gryffindor. My father will be furious" Tom overheard the girl's hushed whisper. His eyes wandered to the pair by the fireplace, and he greeted them with a slight nod as he passed by.

"Ladies."

Marie Burke and Isadora Malfoy seemed pleased by his acknowledgment, exactly as he had intended.

"Hello, Tom!" the tall, blonde girl responded with a flirtatious smile, halting him in his tracks. "How were your holidays?"

Suppressing the memories of scarcity and destruction that his summer at the orphanage brought to mind, Tom maintained his charismatic façade, not allowing an ounce of weight to touch his handsome features. He returned Isadora's smile, and Tom could sense the girl's infatuated breathlessness.

"It was lovely, thank you," he replied briefly. "Now, girls, I understand you're in the common room, but consider heading to bed soon. It's quite unbecoming for young ladies like yourselves to be gossiping about on the first night. People might start to think you're rather shallow."

His tone was sweet yet authoritative, and only someone like Rafe Lestrange would have noticed the underlying derision in his words. Tom's gaze shifted to Marie Burke, who had exchanged knowing glances with the other girl.

"Oh, yes, of course. You're absolutely right," Marie responded, retrieving her belongings from the floor. "Thank you, Tom." She pulled Isadora by the arm, who continued to brazenly eye him, and together they departed. "Good night, Tom," the blonde girl called back to him with a flirtatious smile as they descended the stairs.

Once they were out of sight, Tom's smile dissolved into a scowl. He was pleased that he had successfully dismissed the foolish girls, but their behavior had irritated him. He sighed and took a seat in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, allowing himself a moment of respite.

Minutes passed in relative peace until he heard footsteps approaching from the dormitory stairs. Mentally preparing himself for an interruption, Tom was surprised to see a familiar face.

The young man's blue eyes locked onto his dark green ones; his expression inscrutable as he pushed a stray strand of light brown hair away from his forehead. Without hesitation, he walked toward Tom and took a seat on opposing armchair.

Tom shifted his gaze away from him, staring into the fire, unwilling to acknowledge him in any way.

"You're upset," He remarked. "Listen, Tom..."

Tom's anger flared, and he shot a fierce look at Rafe, who bit his lip. They were alone, and Tom didn't allow anyone to address him informally in private anymore. He now demanded the title he had earned.

"My lord," he corrected himself and sighed deeply. "I apologize. I'm not entirely sure why exactly, but I assume I must have done something wrong…." His voice carried a hint of sarcasm, not lost on Tom.

Tom's patience wore thin, and he snapped. "Where have you been?"

"I… I told you. Marcus lost his cat on the train; I was trying to…"

But Tom interrupted him sharply. "Why do you insist on lying to me, Lestrange? Do you think I'm a fool?"

Yet, Tom knew that Rafe Lestrange did not, by any means, consider him a fool. Out of everyone in the castle, Rafe was the one person who truly understood Tom's abilities and ambitions. To others, they appeared to be best friends, inseparable, almost like brothers. Perhaps there was a kernel of truth in it, although Tom didn't want to think of Lestrange as his friend at all, he couldn't deny how Rafe had believed in him from the beginning, long before he could claim his legacy. When others had mocked him for his muggle name or even dared to label him a mudblood, Rafe had been the only one to defend him.

Impressed by Tom's early displays of innate magical talent during their first year, Rafe had approached him, practically begging for his guidance, to help him excel and prove his disdainful parents wrong. Together, they had explored the entire library, delving into advanced magical texts, practicing spells far beyond their years, and even experimenting to develop their own.

Though Tom despised admitting it, he trusted Rafe. The boy was capable and loyal, two qualities that were difficult to find. But Rafe could also be very stubborn and independent. He was not one to be pushed around lightly, which was sometimes beneficious but other times it proved highly annoying to Tom. He understood that Rafe's loyalty was genuine, stemming from respect, not fear. It was clear to Tom that Rafe genuinely admired his magical abilities and considered him a friend, although he was reluctant to return the sentiment.

"I was with a girl," Rafe eventually confessed, searching beneath his robes for a silver case. He retrieved a cigarette and offered one to Tom, which he reluctantly accepted.

"For Merlin's sake, Rafe, I have no interest in your romantic escapades. Keep them to yourself. But don't you dare lie to me again," Tom warned as he lit his cigarette, exhaling the smoke smoothly through his nose.

"I wasn't planning on sharing any sordid details," Rafe teased lightly. "But the reason I didn't inform you earlier was due to the others. You know they can't keep their bloody mouths shut. I would never hear the end of it."

Tom's expression soured at the thought. "Indeed," he agreed, his disgust evident, "they spent the entire journey from Hogsmeade gossiping about that new Burke girl, like a bunch of twelve-year-old girls."

Rafe chuckled. ""Yes, I thought that might become the topic of conversation tonight."

"It's not amusing," Tom replied, though a hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips. "They were insufferable, and you weren't there to stop them, so I had to intervene myself."

"God forbid," Rafe teased, and Tom rolled his eyes, choosing not to dignify his casual insolence with a response. He felt fatigued from the night's events.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, peacefully smoking their cigarettes. Eventually, Rafe broke the silence again.

"Jokes aside, and without delving into idle gossip too, I heard some intriguing information about that Burke girl over the summer," he said, adopting a quiet tone.

Tom's curiosity was piqued, and he glanced at Rafe. "Go on."

"Well, it's not directly about her, but her father."

Tom nodded impatiently, "Yes, I know. Rosier mentioned he was one of Grindelwald's lackeys."

Rafe shook his head. "No, not anymore. My father saw him at the Ministry, seeking amnesty and claiming to possess a written pardon from the International Confederation of Wizards. He was denied, but he walked away only because Theseus, the Head Auror, refused to arrest him, on the condition that he never return... supposedly, they were old friends."

"I have yet to see how any of this is even mildly interesting" Tom replied with tediousness dripping from his voice. He threw the cigarette butt into the fireplace and stood up from his armchair, ready to leave the conversation behind. Yet, Rafe's serious tone halted him.

"He's not wanted for his involvement with Grindelwald. It's because he supposedly stole some cursed items from a grave during his time at Gringotts on an expedition in Greece."

Tom's eyes narrowed as the boy continued his tale. "Now take this with a grain of salt, of course, but my father claims he overheard Theseus talking with an Unspeakable; and they said the grave he allegedly desecrated belonged to Herpo the Foul."

The name hung in the air like an omen of things to come. Tom and Rafe had spent countless hours in the restricted section of the library, scouring books in search of information about Herpo the Foul and his Horcruxes, hoping to find clues about the process of creating one.

Tom knew that murder was required to split the soul, as he had discovered from his conversation with Slughorn the previous term. Murder was not an obstacle, as he had already taken the lives of his detestable muggle father and his parents, not to mention the disastrous demise of Myrtle Warren. However, the specifics of placing those soul fragments into receptacles remained a mystery to him.

If Burke's father had indeed stolen cursed relics from Herpo the Foul's grave, there was a chance that these items held valuable information. Tom felt a surge of excitement mixed with curiosity.

"It's possible that the girl knows something…" Rafe added. "Supposedly she never left her father's side after her mother was killed by Grindelwald himself. And she might have even seen the grave."Tom considered Rafe's words; it was certainly worth investigating. He thought of the dark-haired girl who had stood among the first-years during the sorting ceremony. She appeared reserved compared to her exuberant Gryffindor peers. It was unfortunate she had not been sorted into Slytherin, as it would have made it easier for him to approach her.

"Find out everything you can about her," Tom instructed Rafe. He realized he would need information to formulate his approach. Judging from her demeanor at the feast, and her family's involvement with Grindelwald, it was likely she would keep to herself and not be easily swayed into revealing any secrets she might possess.

"Consider it done… my lord."