Author's note: Hello friends, I hope you are doing well. I just learned that in some countries, May 1st it is not Labour Day like it is where I live now and where I come from but happy Labour Day nonetheless! Here is a new chapter! Thank you so much for reading and following this story. I'm beyond grateful.
Ps: based on my poor knowledge of Arabic, Aqrab, Anna's grandfather's name, means "scorpion".
Ps 2: I sometimes edit some chapters later on, when I find some typos and other mistakes in the story. I hope you don't get spam every single time I do so. If you are, I'm super sorry!
September 1942: The Scorpion and the Snake
The Daily Prophet
Hogwarts' Special
Tuesday 1st, September
Waning Gibbous / Moon in Taurus
"First Years Vox Pop: Which House is their Favourite House?…..p.2"
"Secret Passage Revealed: One of the Castle's Sewer to be Sealed Off for Safety…..p.4"
"Breaking Discoveries about Salazar Slytherin. A Talk with Messenio Campbell….p.10"
A young man with jet black hair dropped five knuts on the counter of the newspapers kiosk before he grabbed the Daily Prophet. Platform 9¾ was packed and excited chatters permeated the station. He gripped the handle of his luggage and made his way to the closest carriage. A blond woman, her hair almost white, was helping her young son hoist his bags inside the train. He gave a helping hand, offering to carry the child's suitcase and she gave him a grateful look as he led the boy inside the coach.
"What's your name?" he asked, as he guided the First Year through the corridor and opened the door to an only half full compartment.
"Abraxas Malfoy"
"Malfoy" he repeated knowingly. "Most of your family members went to Slytherin, am I right?" he queried and he placed the boy's suitcase on the overhead racks. The boy confirmed his presumption with a timid nod and he lowered himself at the boy's height.
"My name is Tom. I'll be your prefect, if you follow your family's path and are sorted in the same house. The first weeks can be tough but everyone at school is very kind. You can come to me, if you have any concerns or if you simply need a friend. I always have time for fellow Slytherins. Welcome to Hogwarts, Abraxas" he added with a warm smile and the boy's face brightened.
A few minutes later, the newspaper under one arm and his suitcase in hand, Tom was briskly walking through the train's aisle, all the way to the prefects' reserved coach. He had welcomed his nomination rather coolly, for the news hadn't come unexpected. In fact, Slughorn had informed him he would suggest his name to Headmaster Dippet as a representative of the Slytherins. Naturally, Tom had played humble but he had had little doubt about his chances.
He slid the door of the compartment open and he saw the newly appointed prefect for Gryffindor sit up straight at his sight, now holding himself very upright but Tom did not grant him another look. He had no time for a coq-fight. He briefly scanned the few people that had already gathered and smiled in contentment. So far, his assumptions proved to be correct: Avery's twin sister for his female counterpart, Roberta Gulls and Robin Hare for Gryffindor. Ellen Locket and Ector Gorry for Hufflepuff. Séighín Mac Máirtín for Ravenclaw and, he would have bet his life, Annabel Selwyn. Who, he noticed, was being unusually late.
Tom looked at his watch. It was almost 11 am and he found himself wondering why she was not there yet, she who was always so punctual. Yet, he chased away that thought and chastised himself mentally for letting her impose herself in his mind so blatantly. He had been thinking way too much about that girl during the past few weeks. She came to his mind far too often, unannounced, whenever he casted a spell he had learned from her or when he spoke a charm in Arabic or Hebrew, foreign tongues she had taught him.
He had dreamt of her too, multiple times. It was always the same setting, and a creeping guilt settled in him each time after.
In that dream of his, he was waking up with a horrid thirst in one of the suites of the Lestrange's manor. Everything was still, to the exception of someone breathing next to him. He recognised Walburga, from her very dark hair, the satin bedsheets barely concealing the girl's nakedness. He extended his arm to pour himself a glass from the crystal jug that stood on the bedside table but when he lifted the carafe, it was empty. He stood up, his mouth dry from all the wine they had drunk the night before and he made his way to the bathroom. He turned the faucet and drank from the tap, the cool liquid soothing his throat, water trickling along his jaw. He reached for the towel near the sink to dry his face, and from the corner of his eyes, he noticed something move in the darkness. A silhouette, knee-high to a grasshopper, was standing out in the twilight. Tom recognised Annabel by the colour of her hair, for her back was turned to him. She must not have been older than five or six years old, her flimsy nightgown giving her an otherworldly air. "What happened?" she asked, her voice weirdly high-pitched as she leaned against the bathtub to peer inside. He walked towards her and peeked: ravaged corpses of baby bunnies were scattering the bottom of the tub, blood smearing the ceramic. She turned her grey eyes to him and he found himself articulating:
"It was the scorpion and the snake. They attacked the bunnies. I had to put them down"
"I'm very sorry about Fluffy" he soothed her when he noticed the girl's massacred pet lying in the middle of the cadavers.
"Don't. It wasn't your fault" she whispered.
"We'll burry them tomorrow" he gently offered as he kneeled on the floor next to her and stroked her hair. She nodded with a solemn air and she slid her tiny hand inside his palm as he led her outside the bathroom. He carried her in his arms once they reached the staircase, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as they reached a room that looked like his own, back there at the orphanage.
She murmured, in his ear: "The scorpion and the snake, they do terrible things. It wasn't your fault. You're not a monster"
He put the girl on the bed and the metal springs of the mattress squeaked under her weight as she lied down.
"The scorpion is vile and the snake is sly" she hummed as he tucked her in.
"Sleep now" he shushed before he bent over to kiss her forehead tenderly.
When he came back to his own room, his bed was empty and cold, like if no one had slept in there.
Tom felt a slight irritation as he remembered the days he and his friends had practiced the killing curse. It had been far more brutal than he had planned, for the spell, improperly casted, caused nasty wounds to the animals who were then panicking. Nott had had to go fetch more bunnies the next days before they truly mastered the curse. The dream began a few days later, and he could not help but catch himself search for a deeper meaning of it. He found himself waking up once, addressing the girl out loud: "Was it the snake or was it me?"
He moved, to distract himself from his own thoughts, and he located an empty space where he could leave his suitcase before he sat down next to Avery's twin sister, Ophelia, who had also been appointed as prefect for Slytherin. She gave him a smile and resumed to drawing lines and circles over a parchment paper placed on her knees, obviously working on some Quidditch tactics since she was the Chaser of the green and silver team.
The door slid and he glanced up, to watch the current Head Girl and Boy enter the compartment. The latter, a goody two-shoes from Gryffindor, glanced at the list he was holding and whispered something to the Head Girl who nodded.
"We'll start once we're all present" she stated before leaving the compartment again and Tom opened the newspaper he had bought a few minutes ago. He skimmed through the pages until he found that one article that had piqued his interest.
"Breaking Discoveries about Salazar Slytherin. A Talk with Messenio Campbell"
"Messenio Campbell is a whiskey amateur and a fan of the American National Gnome Throwing Team. He is also a historian and a senior researcher at the Magical Research Institute of Mount Greylock, United-States. Six months ago, he set up home at the French Academy of Magic where he accepted a visiting professorship on the institutionalisation of magical education in medieval Europe. He announced being currently working on a biography of Salazar Slytherin. Our reporter, Anitor Ogotrix, went to unearth some more details about our gloomiest - but favourite - founder.
A.O. - Mr Campbell, your new book A Tormented Wizard: Life and Death of Salazar Slytherin will be published at the end of this year. Salazar Slytherin was a rather complex character. What gave you the idea of focusing on his figure?
M.C. - My research takes stock of the recent discovery of an important correspondence between Salazar Slytherin and someone whose name remains obscure, for they used to sign their letters with their initials only. My first assumption was that he was conversing with a sweetheart, a woman, for graphologists assumed the handwriting looked rather feminine. Yet, further engagement with the sources disproved this hypothesis. Instead, I am now considering the possibility of a family member, a sister perhaps. One child families were extremely rare in that time and it would not be unprecedented that Salazar Slytherin had had siblings.
A.O. - You previously mentioned in an interview with the French newspaper Le Cri de la Gargouille that the discovered correspondence hinted at the possibility of Salazar Slytherin having had children himself...
M.C. - One letter hinted at it, yes, and I succeeded in tracing down his genealogical tree.
A.O. - How exciting! Does this mean some people might be unaware that they are the descendants of one of the most famous wizards of all time?
M.C. - Sadly, it appears that the bloodline extinguished a few decades back, but more will be revealed with the publication of my book which-
"I'm sorry, I'm late" piped a voice, muffled from the ear-splitting sound of the train's horn that suddenly resounded across the platform.
A tall red-haired girl entered the compartment and sat on the opposite booth seat of his, near the two Gryffindors.
Sophia Kristiansen, that Norvegian Muggle-born that almost had Leonus Nott being killed over a stupid handkerchief affair. He stared at the little blue and silver pin that was attached to her uniform, where the letter "P" was engraved before she crossed her arms in front of her chest and shot him a suspicious glance.
Where the heck was Annabel Selwyn?
—
"When I think that you could have had access to the prefect's bathroom…" lamented a girl with long blond hair as she slid a few inches closer to her friend so only she could hear. Annabel's hands began to ache from applauding the Headmaster with too much enthusiasm, for he had just finished his speech.
"Shh! You promised me you wouldn't say anything" reproached Annabel as she darted an irate glance to her friend who was now rolling her eyes.
"I still think you made a mistake... You could have given detentions to all the First Years who are being indecently loud at the library during the exam period... And you could have smuggle me inside the prefects' bathroom"
Annabel casted the girl an irate glance.
She had declined the prefect's position.
After long and tiring weeks of regular meetings with the matchmaker over the summer, the girl had decided it was time to start to re-activate the second step of her rebellion strategy against her parents: do not accept any responsibility that you do not have to shoulder.
She had already started, a year prior, by not choosing any elective courses. In theory, she could have gone on a strike about studying as well, but she could not bring herself to be a mediocre student, so she had been desperately racking her brains during the holidays for a new way to get on her parents' nerves.
Thus, the letter informing her about her nomination came at just the right time.
Nobody understood her decision, of course, especially not her mother who had openly questioned her daughter's sanity once she had declared at the dinner table that she had been designated as prefect, but intended to decline the offer. She had politely replied to the Ravenclaw's house head on the very next day, claiming that she believed it was better for her own good not to get accustomed to order others around. Indeed, she had explained in her letter that she would lose such privileges soon enough after leaving Hogwarts - since she would have to do what she is told by her future husband - and that she was therefore afraid that her mental health would not allow her to survive such discrepancy in her agency and freedom.
She had had her mother read it, feigning that she was unsure whether the letter contained any orthography mistakes. Annabel called that psychological warfare.
"What are you two whispering about?" asked Eudora who shot them a curious look.
"We're saying that Tom Riddle is a looker" replied Elena brazenly as the prefects were being called on the dais. Annabel could not help but let out an outraged gasp at her friend's boldness and looked up.
The eight newly affected prefects were alined on the stage, Tom in the middle. He was taller than the other boys and his posture conferred him a natural authority. He was holding his hands behind his back, staring at the room with that usual nonchalance of his. She was stunned to notice that he had matured over the summer break. She knew boys used to transform abruptly, like if their bodies could not tolerate the slowness of ageing, but she hadn't expected him to change so entirely. There was something new, in his physique and in his attitude, an assertiveness, something she believed she had never perceived in him before. It was feral, fierce, almost lewd, and far beyond his usual self-assurance. Her first thought was that he had had sex for the first time during the summer break, for she believed only such form of intimacy could alter people so profoundly. Annabel, who had little experience in the matter, blushed as she imagined him with a girl, and she felt like an impassable gap suddenly grew between them, for he now knew what she did not know, that he owned what she did not have.
"Look at Sophia's face… Is it possible that she's so unhappy to be standing right next to the Slytherins that she looks so austere?" laughed Margaret at the sight of their friend who seemed, indeed, in a rather sullen mood.
A general laughter spread across the room in reaction to something funny the Head Girl said and Annabel saw Tom scanning the Great Hall from his hypnotic eyes, until their gaze met. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he stared back down at her.
Elena was right. He was handsome. And dangerously so.