Chapter 4 - Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin
Written by Nemesis
Tom woke on September first to an enormous pattering on the roof. As he stepped out of bed and into his slippers, there was a flash, and the dormitory was briefly illuminated as thunder howled outside. He checked the wall clock and discovered that it was six-thirty. Tom had a fleeting idea of going back to sleep, but his stomach had already filled with energetic toads. Groggily cursing his nerves, Tom pulled on a dressing gown over his pajamas and sneaked across the hall to Hannah's room, making sure that Mr. Carney was safely snoring in the next chamber.
Tom rapped his knuckles on Hannah's door, quietly so that Mr. Carney would not wake up. Apparently, though, it was not enough to wake Hannah, either. He knocked again, but nobody answered. Tom tried the handle, knowing even as he did so that Hannah locked her doors at night. "Fine, be difficult," he snapped in a whisper. If Hannah was not awake, someone else was. Someone a little more nocturnal than Hannah. "Nepenthe!" Tom hissed through the keyhole. "Are you there?"
"Yesss," Nepenthe replied.
"Can you wake Hannah for me?" Tom requested. He knew Hannah would probably be after his blood if Nepenthe touched her, but he was desperate. "Just swat her with your tail or something."
"Pleased to ssserve," Nepenthe responded, with what sounded like a smile in his voice. Exactly eight seconds passed, and a muffled scream rang out. Luckily, Hannah had shrieked into her pillow, which stifled most of the noise. Mr. Carney snored on, although Tom heard a few of the orphans stir. Nobody came out, to Tom's relief.
After a few moments, Hannah could be heard shooing Nepenthe back into his basket. Tom struck the door again, and Hannah appeared in the doorway a second later, looking both terrified and homicidal. When she spotted Tom, she blanched. "Well," she fumed quietly, "guess whose 'harmless animal' just licked the back of my neck? Guess whose little pet scared me out of my wits?"
"Whose?" Tom asked innocently. He feigned a look of realization. "Did Mr. Carney set Bart Werner on you?" Tom queried, his face earnest. He was referring to the only orphan Mr. Carney liked at all; everybody viewed Bartholomew as Carney's lap dog.
Hannah could not resist laughing into her hand. "You go get ready, I'll get started on your packing," Hannah grinned, back in high spirits. Tom rushed off and returned quickly, wearing his only good clothes, a pair of blue jeans and a plaid sweater. He set to work dumping books into the trunk. Hannah hesitated suddenly, holding a book at arm's length.
"An Encyclopædia of Curses and Hexes?" she asked inquisitively. "First-years don't need to know how to duel."
"I thought it could be useful," Tom shrugged, taking the book out of her hand and placing it on top of The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1. He put his robes in the trunk last, knowing he would have to change into the uniform on the train. Once the packing was done, Hannah removed a second trunk from her closet. "Going somewhere?" Tom inquired.
"No," Hannah replied. "It's for Abby."
"Who's Abb--" Tom started, but stopped talking as a girl knocked tentatively on the doorframe. She was short, plump, and pretty, with auburn plaits and a rosy face. Tom recognized her as one of the rare orphans who clearly bathed often, and Tom could not remember ever having a confrontation with her. She looked at him curiously, positively beaming with excitement.
"This is Abby Forrey," Hannah informed Tom, rising to meet her. "She got one of the letters too, Tom. Abby, this is Tom Riddle."
"Also known as Tommy Salami," Tom put in coldly, as he watched Abby struggle to recognize him.
"Oh yeah!" Abby said cheerfully. She cocked her head. "I didn't know you knew how to talk." Tom furiously plunged a hand into his open trunk for his wand, but Hannah seized his arm and tugged him away from the trunk. Abby did not seem to notice. "I had no idea that stuff I could do was magic," she prattled. "My parents were both…Muggles, do you call them? Yes, both of them were Muggles, and I didn't even know magic existed until June! I can't wait, can you?"
Stupid question, Tom thought bitterly. Based on the Muggles he knew, none of them were any good. He was beginning to think that Abby, what with her Muggle parentage, had probably inherited a mean streak and a fondness for spontaneous beatings. Abby seemed pleasant enough, of course, but she had to have Muggle characteristics, and Tom expected her to show them at any time. "I can't wait either," Tom sighed, gingerly closing his trunk.
After they finished packing, Hannah magicked herself into Muggle clothes to Abby's intense awe, and the children lugged their trunks down to the lobby. Abby had a toad in a glass tank, which shrank away from Nepenthe's basket as though it knew what was inside. "He smells delicious," Nepenthe joked, and Tom gave out a hearty guffaw. Abby turned to see what he was laughing at, but Tom quickly masked it with a cough.
Hannah appeared a few minutes later. "We'll be taking a Ministry car," she said, looking breathless and wan. "They provide them for people who can't get to King's Cross any other way." As she spoke, a deep green car appeared in the drive on the other side of the playfield, water rolling down its sides. Tom grabbed his trunk in one hand and Nepenthe's cage in the other. Hannah escorted them down the steps hurriedly, but however they rushed, all three were soaked to the skin by the time they got to the car. A driver stepped out and placed their luggage in the car trunk, then opening the car door as they piled into the back.
Right as Tom was fastening his seatbelt, a great fork of lightning rent the sky, promptly followed by a clash of thunder. Abby squealed and snatched Tom's elbow. Tom had quite a time shaking her off, quickly starting to think that Abby was a bit of a pill. "Sorry," Abby said meekly, after Tom finally managed to throw her hand off his arm. "I'm afraid of thunderstorms."
"So I've noticed," Tom retorted shortly, resting his forehead on the windowpane and glaring out into the storm. Tom had always enjoyed lightning and thunder, and was not about to let Abby's phobias ruin his fun.
They arrived at King's Cross about two hours later. Hannah removed two peanut butter sandwiches from her bag and handed them to Abby and Tom, who ate them hurriedly. Hannah's watch told them it was ten-thirty, so they had half an hour to get their trunks on the train and claim compartments. Tom wearily stepped out into the sirocco and dragged his trunk into the station, Abby close behind him.
"All you have to do is walk through the barrier separating Platforms Nine and Ten," Hannah informed them, helping Abby lift her trunk onto a trolley. "That will transport you to the Hogwarts Express platform. Hurry now, or you won't get decent seats." Abby rushed off, disappearing through the barrier. Tom lingered, his hand on the trolley, staring at Hannah.
"Well, goodbye," Tom said awkwardly. "I'll miss you, Hannah."
Hannah rumpled his hair. "I'll miss you too, Tom. Be sure to write to me, and keep me up to date on everything you do." Tom looked rather forlorn, but Hannah beamed at him. "Hurry up, Tom, I've got to get back to the orphanage before Mr. Carney realizes I've left someone else in charge." Tom nodded slowly and steered his trolley toward the barrier. Hannah watched him vanish, then spun on her heel and left.
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With the hiss of steam being released from a valve, the Hogwarts Express started up. Tom looked out of the compartment window and watched all the proud parents waving their children goodbye. He spotted the Chubbs waving wildly at their daughter. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were standing nearby, looking depressed, and Tom even saw a veela who had to be Ambika's mother, blowing curt kisses at a nearby window. Tom noticed in mild wonder that even the full-veela did not have the stupefying effect on him that Hannah had described.
Gradually, the station disappeared, replaced by gloomy outdoor scenes. The lightning seemed to have passed, leaving only a grim rainstorm. Tom rolled his eyes and turned away, looking around his compartment. His trunk kept sliding around under his seat, and Nepenthe was fast asleep in his cage, robbing Tom of the only company he might have had. After a while, Tom took his trunk out from under the seat and opened it, changing into his school robes and placing his wand in his belt. As an afterthought, Tom put on his hooded velvet cloak as well, knowing he would have to have something to keep him dry once he got off the train. Once he was in his uniform, Tom pulled Hogwarts, A History out of his trunk and settled down for a long read.
Tom barely had time to read, for there was a sudden knock on the door of the compartment, and Tom looked up sharply. "Who is it?" he demanded.
The door to the compartment slid open, and Tom bit his lip. It was Francis Malfoy, in the company of Ambika Dawes. Both of them looked just as truculent as ever, and they were both wearing their school robes and cloaks. "You would not mind if we sat in here, would you?" Francis asked coldly. Without waiting for an answer, the two of them sidled in. Francis was smirking, and Ambika had that uppity sneer on her face. "Riddle, right?" Francis scoffed.
"That's Tom, to you," Tom snapped, turning back to his book. Francis gave a nasty laugh.
"What an ordinary name," Ambika cackled. "Is it Thomas, or just Tom, like a smelly old tom cat?"
Tom looked up and surveyed Ambika mildly. "Do you always snort like that, Ambika, or do you have a head cold?" he retorted. Francis's smile was replaced by an ugly look.
"You have no right to say that to her, Mudblood," he snarled.
In one movement, Tom rose to his feet and whipped his wand out of his belt, pointing it at Francis. His eyes were unusually bright again, and his arm was shaking slightly. "Never call me that," he whispered. "Never. The wizard blood I have is far more potent than you could ever imagine, Francis. Now, get out of here. Nobody invited you."
Francis looked amused. "What can you do to me, Mudblood?" he chuckled. "I bet you can't even perform a simple--"
Tom's wand emitted a jet of orange light, and Francis cried out in pain as large green sprouts popped out of every inch of skin on his face and arms. Ambika plucked one of the sprouts, and it turned out that Tom had hit Francis with a Carrot Curse. Tom watched in amazement as Francis bounced around, tugging carrots out of his arms. The carrots he removed were quickly replaced by new ones. "Serve you right!" Tom said icily. "Now take your girlfriend and get out of here before I do something worse." Francis heeded Tom's warning and sprang out of the compartment, quickly followed by Ambika, who looked stunned.
Tom fell back into his seat, flushed with fury and exhilaration. He felt strange, like an enormous bubble was expanding right under his throat. He had never really anticipated the feeling of power it gave him to see someone under the influence of his own magic. Francis Malfoy was scared out of his wits and covered with carrot sprouts, and Tom had been the one to put him in that state. If he could do that, Tom mused, he could do anything! Slowly, Tom looked down at his left hand. His knuckles were white around the wand, and he was still shaking. Tom replaced it into his belt, not quite sure what to think. Instead of pondering it further, Tom resumed his reading.
********************
At six-thirty, the train screeched to a halt at Hogsmeade Station, and the students timidly filed off the train. Tom left his luggage on the train like everybody else, tugged the hood of his cloak over his head, and followed the other students down the steps, his pointed hat clutched in his hand. The platform was noisy and crowded, but Tom was able to make his way across it. A tall, auburn-haired professor was waving his hands in the air, his half-moon spectacles glinting. "First-years, this way!" he cried. "First years, over here." Tom was one of the first to find him, mainly because he was so tall that he could see over everyone else's heads. "Are you a first-year? Good. Just stay by me, don't let anyone shove you away. First years, over here!"
Gradually, Tom was surrounded by about forty boys and girls, all shivering in the pouring rain. The auburn-bearded professor marched them away from the crowd toward the edge of a lake, where ten boats were tied to the dock. Tom got into the same boat as the auburn-haired professor, and three other children sat there with him. One of them was a very disgruntled Lucy Chubb, who was fretting over the rainwater on her ermine cloak. The other two were conversing intently, and when they spotted Tom, they started whispering madly. Tom recognized them as the two girls who had giggled at him in the Leaky Cauldron.
Lucy seemed to know them. "Christie, Michelle, hi!" she greeted, scooting over to sit with them. "How are you?" The tête-à-tête continued in hushed voices, and the three of them kept glancing at Tom, grinning. Disgusted, Tom turned his attention to the professor.
"Is everybody in a boat?" the professor hollered over the din. "All right, off we go!" The boats magically broke free of the dock and sailed across the lake. Rain kept splashing into Tom's eyes, but he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Tom had never been in a boat before, and it was wonderful. Tom thought he saw an enormous squid dart under the boat, but he might have imagined it.
Tom was the only one who was really liking the ride. Most people looked pale and green, and those who did not were leaning over the side of their boats. Tom tried not to watch, but he did take some pleasure in noting that Francis Malfoy was among the sickest. His pasty face had been rid of carrots, and Tom guessed he had found an older student who knew the counter-curse.
Once they had made it back on solid ground, the professor led them through a thicket of trees, and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry finally came into view. It was a towering castle with numerous turrets. Above the large oak doors was a burnished copper shield bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms. Tom read the words of the school motto on the shield, "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," and could not stifle a laugh. He knew enough Latin to realize that this meant "Never tickle a sleeping dragon."
Finally, the students dashed up the stone steps into the entry hall, sopping wet and freezing. The entry hall was beautiful inside, more attractive than any other room Tom had ever seen. The house flags hung on the walls, and their way was lit by glimmering torches. The professor stood before them, allowing them to admire the hall briefly before beginning his welcoming speech. Tom peeled his hood off his head and riveted his eyes on the professor, suddenly very conscious of the fact his cloak was dripping on the floor.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor Dumbledore, and I am to be your Transfiguration teacher," the professor began. "You are about to be sorted into your school Houses. There are four Houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." Tom wondered vaguely why Slytherin was always listed last, and Gryffindor first. "Each has a noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. You will be placed in your House based on your character and talents, but trust me, none of the teachers here are about to play favorites. Just because I happen to be head of Gryffindor House does not mean that I will give a Slytherin an F on an A+ test." A few people sighed with relief, and Professor Dumbledore gave them a reassuring smile.
"Well, without further ado, let's get you lot Sorted." With that, he threw open a set of double doors and the first-years scurried inside. Tom found himself in an enormous chamber whose beauty far surpassed that of the entrance hall. There were four long tables, two along each of the longest walls, draped in dyed linen. One table was red, one blue, one green, and one yellow. At the very head of the room was a table with a violet cloth. There were four large stained glass windows (one design for each House) along one of the walls, and the rest of the walls were hung with tapestries. Tom's eyes shot up to the ceiling, which was enchanted to look like the sky outside. Right now it was turbulent and stormy, with the occasional flash of lightning.
As they entered, hundreds of heads turned their way, and Tom suddenly felt very small. He had not known that they had to be Sorted in front of the entire school. Professor Dumbledore swept in, carrying a stool and a patched, frayed wizard's hat. He set the stool down in the middle of the room with the hat on top of it, then stood aside. After a few seconds, and completely without warning, the hat began to sing.
"I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,
First sewn in days of yore.
I have lived right here for many years,
Ten centuries or more.
My masters were a clever bunch
With powers of renown.
They built this place with magic and
Their names are quite well known.
Sir Gryffindor, the brave and bold,
Young Hufflepuff, the kind,
Bright Ravenclaw, of books and words,
Slytherin, the shrewd of mind.
They sought their students far and wide,
Searching without rest,
But each had his or her notion
Of which children were the best.
Gryffindor loved those of spunk,
Adventurous and daring.
Hufflepuff preferred the ones
Who were patient, sweet, and caring.
Ravenclaw was fond of those
Whose brains were sharp and clear.
Slytherin sought those of wit
Who held ambition dear.
When they were getting on in years,
The founders had a fear.
When they all were dead and gone,
Who would choose students here?
That is where this Hat comes in.
They chose me as the one
Who would select the best for them
Out of the mighty throng.
So put me on, don't be afraid.
I've never yet been wrong.
Hear what I've said upon your head
And go where you belong!"
There was an uproarious applause, and Tom felt relief wash over him. He had only to put on a hat, that was not too embarrassing. Professor Dumbledore raised his hands for silence. "I will read off your name," he shouted over the din, "and you will sit on the stool and put on the Sorting Hat. When the Hat calls out your House, you will go to your appropriate table. Aberson, Robert!"
A small boy with mousy hair staggered forward, shivering from head to toe. The Hat completely covered his face. In a few seconds, it screamed, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The yellow table erupted with cheers, and several Hufflepuffs rose to pat Robert on the back. Tom realized they must be going in alphabetical order, and his heart sank. He would have to wait forever.
"Andes, Electra!" A girl with golden hair and freckles glided forward and sat down on the stool, placidly placing the Hat on her head. It had barely grazed her head when it loudly proclaimed her a Slytherin. Electra smiled slightly and pirouetted over to the green table, where she was greeted warmly.
"Bates, Murray!" then became a Ravenclaw, followed by "Birch, Serena!" being made Slytherin. "Cedric, Philip!" became the first new Gryffindor, and the red table gave him a rowdy welcome. Tom thought the Gryffindors looked like a bunch of troublemakers, though not in an unpleasant way.
"Chubb, Lucy!" Tom watched as Lucy stomped forward grumpily, water still dribbling off of her matted ermine cloak. The Hat had a lot of trouble with Lucy, who kept on loudly requesting, "Anything but Slytherin. Anything but Slytherin." Finally, Lucy was sent to the Gryffindor table, and Tom sighed with relief. If she was in Gryffindor, Tom would not have to deal with her too often.
After Jack Davidson was made a Ravenclaw, Ambika Dawes sailed along and sat on the stool, flirting with the boys before putting the Hat over her silvery hair. Tom looked around. Every male face at every House table was looking hopeful. "GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat cried. There was a roar of outrage from the other three tables, while the Gryffindor boys looked smug.
The Sorting went on. Tom watched Abby Forrey get Sorted into Hufflepuff, exactly as he predicted. He was beginning to feel restless by then. "Laughlan"… "Lewis"… "Mallory"… "Malfoy, Francis!" Tom was jerked out of his reverie as he watched Francis swagger forward. He crossed his fingers in his pockets, praying that Francis would be put in any House but--
"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shrieked. Tom groaned and slumped against the wall, hiding his face in his hands. How could he go into Slytherin, knowing that Francis was going to be there, too? Tom only opened his eyes when Professor Dumbledore got to the names beginning with P.
"Palmer, Beth!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Pearson, Griffith!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Tom watched as Lili Po, a shy-looking Asian girl, was sorted into Ravenclaw. His heart was beating so loudly he was surprised nobody else could hear it. Surely he was next. He had to be. The next seconds seemed to go in slow-motion.
"Riddle, Tom!"
Tom walked right up to the stool, his back straight and his head held high. He could feel the eyes of every person in the hall, following him, wondering where this boy would go. Slowly, Tom lowered himself onto the seat, and he placed the Sorting Hat upon his head. It fell over his eyes, and Tom gripped the edge of the stool very hard. "Finally," he thought to himself.
"Impatient, are you?" said a tiny voice in his ear. "Mmm hmm. Let's see here. Wow, what a mind! You have quite an intellect in here, Tom." Tom smiled. "You would certainly do well in Ravenclaw with a brain like that. Brave, too. You have many talents, more than even you could imagine." The Hat paused. "Hufflepuff, as you probably know, is out of the question, and Gryffindor wouldn't work for you," the Hat said shortly. "They'd both reject you. You're too different. It's Ravenclaw or Slytherin, Tom Riddle. It's up to you."
Tom sighed, considering his choices. "Ravenclaw, but--"
"Only because that Malfoy boy is in the House you really want?" the Hat replied smartly. "I wouldn't do that to you, Tom Riddle. What you really want is your destiny, and your destiny is…SLYTHERIN!" Tom pulled the Hat off his eyes. The entire hall was still watching him as he shakily rose, placed the Hat on the stool, and ambled over to the green table. The Slytherins were all beaming widely at him, but Tom could not help but hear the booing and hissing coming from the Gryffindor table.
"Ignore them," a Slytherin fourth-year advised him, her brows furrowed at the Gryffindors. "They're just jealous." Tom shot a fiery glance back over at the Gryffindor table, but they were watching Molly Robbins being Sorted, and seemed to have forgotten he existed. The Gryffindors started cheering and stamping as Molly headed toward their table, grinning broadly.
Francis Malfoy was looking murderous. "You got into Slytherin?" he sneered in disbelief. "Who'd you have to pay to get the Hat to put you here, Mudblood?"
"I wouldn't make any comments if I were you, Malfoy," Tom replied smoothly, "or I'll set a rabbit on you. You know how much they love carrots." Most of the Slytherins howled with laughter, including a boy who had just sat down on Tom's left.
Francis turned crimson and went for his wand, but he noticed that one of the teachers was looking at him. "You're lucky the teachers are watching," Francis scowled. Tom snickered and turned away.
Once the Sorting was done, the golden plates and goblets were magically filled. Tom stared at his plate. He had never been offered so much food before in his life. He promptly began to eat faster than any of the others, as though worried someone would take it all away. The other Slytherins stared at him like they had never seen a human being before. The boy beside him who had laughed at Francis looked nonplussed. "Hungry?" he asked gingerly.
Tom struggled to swallow a mouthful of rice. "Ravenous," he replied, and he immediately started up again.
"Do they starve you at home, Mudblood, or are you just a pig?" Francis scowled.
"Eat slime, Malfoy," a first-year girl snapped, shoving her bushy black bangs out of her eyes. "What a schmuck," she moaned. "Sorry about him. Tom, right? I'm Larkin Mallory." Tom shook her hand, and she grinned at him.
"How exactly did you do that Carrot Curse?" the boy beside him asked eagerly. "Zuhayr Sahabjira, by the way."
Before Tom knew it, several of the Slytherin first-years were demanding instructions on how to perform the curse. Tom was not quite sure what to do. He was not used to having people talk to him. Finally, he gave in, and started to describe the workings of the curse, while Francis glowered silently at the other end of the table.