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Tom Riddle was so ready for Hogwarts. He’d read every book in his syllabus from cover to cover, holed up in his damp room at Wool’s Orphanage. He didn’t have to worry about being interrupted by other children, as all the boy’s Mrs. Cole had attempted to room with him had been relocated within the day.
They deserved it, though. The lot of them did, for how they treated Tom. ‘Muggles,’ Tom thought with a sneer. How stupid of him, to not realize that they were so obviously below him. He had a name for them now. Muggles. They were practically a different race from his! They couldn’t even fathom the idea of magic, for God’s sake - for Merlin’s sake, Tom was quick to correct himself mentally. He had to remember he was a wizard now.
In the month since the extravagant Professor, Dumbledore had come to tell Tom of what he was, Tom had been eagerly absorbing every ounce of magical knowledge he could. He was still nowhere near confident that he could pass as being anything other than what he was - a nobody, a worthless muggleborn. The professor had seemed quite set on muggles being benevolent. He went out of his way to view muggle London on his way to Diagon Alley. And what a sight that had been.
The pub - the Leaky Cauldron, Tom thought he heard Dumbledore call it - was dingy and seemed to have never been cleaned. Behind the counter had been a man bearing the same name as Tom. He was young and most likely a new hire, as he had been full of excess energy. His eyes went wide when Dumbledore pointed out their shared names, like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever heard of. Tom didn’t understand how the boy could be so excited by the reminder that he was so plain as to have a name like Tom. “Wow,” he had muttered. “We Toms will have to stick together, then, won’t we?” He boomed out with a bright smile, elbowing Tom in the side like they shared a joke.
Tom shuddered slightly thinking about the boy.
The wizarding world was such an odd place. Everything looked intentionally old and extravagant. It wasn’t at all toned down. The bright red steam engine and piles of sweets sold by the eerie lady within were clearly meant to grasp the attention of each of the wide eyed first years and all muggleborns and it was so obvious that wizards wanted them to leave the muggle world behind entirely. But it was all so enthralling that Tom found himself leaving half of his muggle clothes behind in the orphanage.
The train was beautiful, lack of subtlety set aside. Finding the platform was an absolute chore, though. Tom wandered around platforms nine and ten for nearly half an hour, thankfully having made his way to the station two hours early, before he saw a boy with bright blonde hair strut up past him and into the wall. Tom almost audibly gasped and stood up from where he had been hopelessly sitting on a bench. “Well, come on, then mother!” The boy spoke as his head appeared through the wall, “I want to see if Rosier’s sister, Druella, actually made it into Hogwarts. I’ve two galleons bet on her being a squib. Speaking of, I need two galleons.”
An elegant woman with equally pale skin as the boy strode past Tom with as little subtlety as her son. “Well, of course you’ll need the two galleons, Abraxas.” She said, grumbling as the cart she was carrying for her son caught on a loose brick in the path, “Minette and I were discussing her accidental magic feats over tea last month. She placed quite the curious curse on her brother when he tried to push her off a cliff last summer. No doubt she will be going to Hogwarts.” The boy, Abraxas had scowled, then, and promptly stepped back through the doorway, his mother following him with a small smirk on her face.
Tom had allowed himself a minute to gawk at their indiscretion before nearly stumbling through a solid wall.
He had quickly found a seat on the train after that, soon being joined by the same boy he had seen on the platform. Tom was silently thankful for buying the wizarding equivalent of muggle attire and having worn it to the station in place of his usual tattered clothes. Abraxas had revealed his last name to be Malfoy and he settled in across from Tom. His greeting was strange, as he had entered the compartment and looked Tom up and down before he asked what house Tom would be in. He made it a point to not sit down until Tom answered. Tom confidently replied Slytherin, having read all about the house in a book he bought called Hogwarts: a History. They were soon joined by two others, a boy and a girl. The girl had mussed black hair and the boy sported gelled back brown hair. They introduced themselves as Druella and Evan Rosier before they confidently sat down to either side of Malfoy.
Before the train completely filled, they were joined by a boy who had merely muttered that his name was Mulciber before sitting to Tom’s far left, another boy who over-enthusiastically greeted Malfoy and cheerfully sat to Druella’s left after telling Tom he only needed to know that his surname was Avery, and a slightly crazed-looking boy named Lestrange (despite the boy actually giving his first name in greeting, Tom hadn’t bothered to remember it) sat uncomfortably close to Tom’s right side the entire train ride.
The train ride passed uneventfully, though Tom didn’t shy away from the chance to show off his ability to speak to the snake he had snuck in through the pocket in his trousers.
They arrived at the school and were greeted by an odd man named Ogg. He led them by boat to the beautiful castle, for Hogwarts didn’t deserve to merely be called a school. From there, they were met with Professor Dumbledore, who greeted them all in an overly-cheerful manner before walking off and making sure the Great Hall was prepared for the sorting.
Tom would never admit to anyone in the coming years, but he was downright terrified. He heard nervous murmurs around him. One obnoxious girl he learned was named Walpurga Black bragged to her friend that she was sure to pass the sorting test, who seemed to cringe away from her as they muttered something about fighting dragons. Walpurga scoffed, “Please. It will be much worse than that.” Somewhere in the front of the crowd, a girl Tom later learned was named Myrtle Warren burst into tears.
From behind Tom, Druella sneered. “If it were me, I would have them kill a muggle. It would show those mudbloods how we feel about their kind.” Her words were accompanied by mutters of agreement from the other soon-to-be Slytherins around them.
“But alas,” Tom spoke as Dumbledore led them into the Great Hall, revealing a tattered hat sitting on a small stool. Druella’s gaze snapped up to Tom, “that would be too easy.”
She cackled, along with Lestrange and Avery. Their laughter was cut short as Dumbledore shot them a small glare. Tom took his time to gaze around the Hall in wonder. It was huge. Forget his small bedroom, the entirety of Wool’s Orphanage could fit into the Hall too many times to count. The four house tables easily portrayed their stereotypical students, the occupants of the tables adorned in yellow or red were cheerily waving at the newcomers, and the other two tables - blue and green - merely ignored the first years in favor of watching their professor.
Professor Dumbledore led an interesting speech, detailing each of the four houses and their founders. He reluctantly told of the achievements of Salazar Slytherin and proudly proclaimed Godric Gryffindor’s triumphs. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were slightly overlooked, though Dumbledore showed them more respect than he had for Slytherin.
“But that is enough of my yammering about four people who lived long ago,” He finally concluded his speech and picked up the tattered hat from the stool. “This, though rugged and unimportant it may seem, will determine your house, your home for the next seven years here at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry! I will call your names and each of you will come and place the hat on your head. That is how it will determine your house.” The rock that had taken residence in Tom’s stomach disappeared. All he had to do was wear a silly old hat?
Tom was lost in his thoughts until he heard Avery’s name called. The boy swaggered up to the stool with the same confidence shown by each of the other purebloods Tom met on the train. The hat was on his head for little under a minute before it proclaimed, “SLYTHERIN!” Avery climbed elegantly from the stool and made his way to the table adorned in green with a smirk on his face.
Tom noticed that the hat took far longer to place some people that it did for others. McGonagall, Minerva took less than ten seconds with the hat to label her a Gryffindor, while Bones, Terry took almost five full minutes to be deemed a Ravenclaw.
Tom began to worry again. What if he sat on the stool forever, until Dumbledore would snatch the hat back off his head and force Tom to return to the orphanage? He couldn’t go back with those muggles! Tom’s worries increased as each of his new acquaintances were all sorted into Slytherin. What if he wasn’t even a Slytherin? What if the hat decided Tom wasn’t Slytherin enough for Slytherin?
“Riddle, Tom,” was called. Tom’s thoughts were brought to an abrupt stop and he took a shaky breath as he separated himself from the dwindling crowd of first years. His heart thrummed within his chest so hard he was sure the Myrtle girl could hear it through her sobbing at the end of the line waiting to be sorted. Tom was well aware that he walked with far less dignity than Malfoy or Avery, but he was too caught in his downward spiral of doubt that he couldn’t be brought to care.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes to quell their trembling and he reached the chair after what seemed like a lifetime of mortified walking.
Dumbledore slowly lowered the Sorting Hat onto Tom’s head, and he was grateful when it slipped down over his eyes and obscured his view of the Great Hall.
‘Ah!’ A voice spoke, startling Tom so much he would have fallen off the stool had he not been expecting to have been attacked or some similar trial. His relief at not having to fend off an attacker didn’t last long before the voice continued, ‘My, My, what ambition you have, Tom! It’s almost refreshing. You have such a thirst to prove yourself, to make yourself known. And what power! Your name will be one to be known by all, there’s no doubt about that. But of course, that’s only if I put you in . . .’ Tom swore his life flashed before his eyes in the time it took for the hat to switch from speaking into his mind to the Great Hall, as it proudly proclaimed, “SLYTHERIN!”
Tom let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He made it into Slytherin! Picking the hat off his head and passing it politely back to Professor Dumbledore, Tom walked to his new home in the same manner as his acquaintances had, his shoulders drawn back and chin held high.
Tom sat closer to the middle of the table than the end, and Malfoy moved over a foot or so to be sitting by Tom. He allowed a small, genuine smile to cross his face as he realized he was welcome here. He had found a place to call home.