I first noticed him as I was walking to the slytherin table. The walk felt too long and both not long enough at the same time. The occupants of the table let out no cheers as the sorting hat announced where I lay, and who the newest member of their house was. After all, the name Victoria Maddox was muggle to the ear.

He didn't look at me, seemingly distracted by the next child sitting on the stool with the hat placed upon them. I was thankful for that, and I glanced away quickly, reluctant to capture his attention.

I quickly sat down, the few people my age looking at me with equal parts shock and displeasure. I recognised a few from their names being called, however my attention was taken elsewhere.

I didn't look at him directly, and from what I could tell he never looked at me either. I didn't want to tempt fate with any sort of interaction. After all, the year was 1939, and several seats away from me sat Tom Marvolo Riddle. The man who I knew would go on to be the most feared British dark lord in a thousand years.

{-}

The bed was comfortable as I lay on it. It seemed like it shouldn't be, being a glorified cot barely thicker than my hand. The common room was quiet at this late hour, with barely any sound making it to the dormitory I was in. Even though classes wouldn't start for a couple days, the travel and ceremony had apparently tired out even the most enthusiastic of seventh years.

I had been surprised when I first woke up. Not waking up in slytherin, but when I was woken up at the beginning. The hospital was acrid in its stench of disinfectant, however neither than nor the blood covering me from the apparent cesarean section was the most surprising thing. The most surprising was the fact I had woken up in the first place.

Most people never woke up from death, let alone nearly a century before they died. That had been the most surprising factor. I couldn't wrap my mind around it for the first year of my life, however I had to, and so I moved on. The life I left behind wasn't much of note, not an important person nor someone with many relationships.

When I had received Slughorn at my door at my 11th birthday I was shocked. Not only had I been set back a century, I also lay in the cross hairs of a story from my first childhood. Although at this point I suppose it may have been more truth than fiction.

I didn't know what I could do at that point. The wand Ollivander had given me lay in my trunk, dormant with the knowledge of the consequences which would befall me should I use it. I tried to scrounge my memory for every mote of detail about the stories I had once read like gospel as a child. Tried to remember times and dates, figure out how the story lined up with what was going on.

I tried to remain hopeful at the prospects of magic ahead of me during that dreadful waiting summer. Of learning magic and all its intricacies. However I knew that was a pipe dream. For every incantation of scene of the books which I forgot, I remembered one thing. That the boy who would grow to become Voldemort was born shortly before me, and that I was a muggle born traipsing into a world where right was determined solely by might.

I sighed quietly as I rolled over onto my side. The curtain blocked my view but I could still hear the slight breathing of my dorm mate. Walburga Black didn't seem happy when the hat pronounced me a slytherin, her disdain even more obvious as we approached the room with both of our names emblazoned. Victoria Maddox too impure for her to fathom sullying herself with it appeared.

I knew I would have to do something, and quickly. Being trapped in a snake den, whether the blasted hat deemed me suitable to be here or not, was not conducive to long term prosperity. I would need to grow strong, and quickly. I could not be the dirty mudblood in a sea of people who could cause explosions with the flick of a wand, and I could not let the boy sleeping somewhere nearby to grow to what he could become.

{-}

I ate quietly at the great hall, trying my hardest to extricate myself from its clutches before some of the more zealous slytherins could come to the first year sitting alone. It was still early in the morning, much too early for most to be up on a Saturday morning. Walburga had thankfully still been asleep as I woke in the morning, proving easy to slip by.

I stared up at the staff table. It remained sparse, most professors seemingly enjoying the time before they had to start teaching. The headmaster was there, Armando Dippet, sitting at the head of the table. He looked positively ancient from what I could see from my seat. That was to be expected though, from what it said in Hogwarts: A History, he was over 200 years old.

I quickly got up from the table after devouring a small breakfast portion, more people were starting to file in and I wanted to get out before Riddle showed up. From what I remember he was a legilimens, and while that may have happened later in life I'd avoid him and that possibility as much as possible.

I walked around the castle for what felt like hours, the staircases moving and confusing my way around the entire time. I eventually found it though, after searching the labyrinthine third floor I found the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. I nearly passed it by, but the plaque caught my eye just quickly enough for me to realise that I had found it.

After assuring myself that nobody was around me, I started pacing at a frenetic pace, asking in my mind for a room where I could be kept secret. After three turns around the door finally appeared, and without wasting any time I nearly bolted though and slammed the door shut.

I could hear myself sigh in relief as I slid down the door. A day straight of not knowing whether I was safe or not, whether I would be shot in the back by any menagerie of spells. The tension bled off my shoulders an I tried to calm down.

"Bloody hell." I said out loud. Finally able to talk without the fear of someone overhearing me. "First you get yourself reborn into the god forsaken 1930s. Then somehow get sorted into slytherin during a time when blood supremacy is at an all time high!" I groaned in frustration as I stood up and walked around the room it had summoned.

The room was nice, medium sized and homely, with a nice chair and table to sit in. I collapsed in the chair as I reeled myself back in. For all that I would love to beat myself up, I knew that it would do nothing productive. Drawing my wand out of my robe pocket I breathed in and tried to let the tension leave me.

"Room, I would like instructions on magical ways to protect myself." I said to the open air surrounding me. I wasn't sure if it would work. But looking at the desk before me after glancing away for a second I saw a book sitting face up.

'Protective Magic for the Curious Beginner' it read. I let a small smile cross my face as I opened the book. For all that may be of my scenario, I was still learning magic, and my inner child reveled in that fact.