“First years! First years, over here!”

Tom Marvolo Riddle descended the steps of the crimson Hogwarts Express and trooped with his fellow classmates over to the man who was calling for them.

“My name’s Ogg,” the man said through a mouth of crooked, yellowing teeth, “and I’m the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. Come on then, got to get you lot down to the boats.” Ogg started to walk at a rather brisk pace for a man of his size—he appeared to be roughly six feet tall.

The group of students followed Ogg down a steep, narrow path surrounded by massive trees. “You’ll get your very first view of your new home in a moment,” Ogg said dully.

“Some home,” sneered a black-haired boy. “School isn’t home; it’s more like a prison.”

At this remark, the rest of the group snickered into their palms. The boy, apparently pleased with himself, smiled smugly. Ogg seemed to be feigning deafness.

Just as Tom’s mouth was curling up into a smirk, it dropped open. He had just gotten his first look at Hogwarts. A huge stone structure, its many towers and turrets were reflected in a seemingly endless black lake, along with stars numbering in the hundreds of millions. Tom allowed himself to be impressed with the imposing castle—a rare indulgence on his part that was carefully hidden from the other first years.

There were several boats perched on the edge of the lake. Instinctively, everyone piled into them, including Tom. Much to his chagrin, he was in a boat with two girls who kept whispering to each other and giggling. He scowled slightly.

Once Ogg was satisfied that he hadn’t left anyone behind, he pointed his wand and the boats began to move slowly forward. Tom found himself staring at the magnificent castle as the boats moved slowly across the smooth black lake, creating no ripples as they journeyed forward.

“Duck!” yelled Ogg, and the students obliged. They sailed under a wall of ivy and into a cave that appeared to be directly underneath the school.

“Out!” Ogg shouted the moment the boats had stopped. The students climbed out of the boats and traipsed behind Ogg onto the school’s wide, grassy lawn.

***

“In a moment you will all be Sorted into Houses,” said Professor Dumbledore seriously, though his blue eyes were flashing with what Tom imagined to be excitement at the prospect of new minds ready for moulding. “As I am the Head of Gryffindor House, I may be slightly biased," he added with a wink, “but Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin all have their own noble histories, and all have produced great witches and wizards.”

Tom watched him look around at every student in turn with those piercing blue eyes. Blue eyes that lingered on him a second longer than necessary.

“If you would please follow me.”

The nervous students formed a line and followed the Professor into the Great Hall. If Tom had thought the exterior view of the castle magnificent, the Great Hall was all that and more.

The ceiling didn’t look like a ceiling—in fact, at first Tom thought there wasn’t one. It perfectly mirrored the starry sky outside, giving the illusion that the Hall was open to the heavens. High above what Tom thought to be the four House tables and the staff table, candles floated in thin air. Their shadowy, flickering light illuminated the Hall.

The first years followed Dumbledore and stood in front of the staff table. Dumbledore conjured a stool and placed an aged wizard’s hat on top of it. The entire Hall fell silent in anticipation, but what were they anticipating? There had been nothing about this in any of Tom’s books, and he absolutely hated not knowing what was going on.

Suddenly, the brim of the hat opened and—much to Tom’s quickly masked surprise—it began to sing:

“To new students, welcome!
Soon you'll be with the rest
But not before you try me on
And put me to the test.

You see, I am the Sorting Hat
You probably know the score:
I Sort you into Houses
Of which there are four.

Ravenclaw, where intelligence
Is the thing that you'll find most;
The eagle is their symbol
To wit and learning they toast.

Hufflepuff, the badgers
Are always tried and true;
Loyalty can be found here
And plenty of friends, too.

Gryffindor, where bravery
Is valued above all;
The mighty lion's roar
Is their daring battle call.

And Slytherin, the serpent
For the cunning and the sly;
Better watch, for fangs are poison
If it’s a snake you’re bitten by.

Now don't be scared, step right up!
For whatever the case,
You just have to try me on
And I'll put you in your place!”

Thunderous applause followed the Sorting Hat’s song, followed by Professor Dumbledore shouting out the first student’s name. “Abbott, Anne” was made a Hufflepuff after a minute of near silence, and she beamed as she made her way to the table on the right.

The group of first years slowly lessened in number as they were Sorted until Tom’s name was finally called. He walked up to the stool with feigned confidence and placed the hat on his head. He made sure to keep his face blank and devoid of emotion; never once did he show the nervous anxiety he was really feeling.

“Oh, my,” said a small voice in his ear. It almost made Tom jump out of his skin. Luckily, he caught himself before reacting so violently. “Cunning, power, and a thirst for greatness . . . there’s only one House for you. SLYTHERIN!” It shouted the last word to the entire Hall. Tom put the hat back on the stool and, heart racing, took his place at the Slytherin table.

At this point he happened to glance at Dumbledore, who was calling out the last name on the list (“Zabini, Cornelius”). The old wizard looked back at Tom with a wary expression in those piercing blue eyes. Tom mentally shook himself as he turned back to the table.

The golden plates filled with food before his eyes. “My name’s Orion Black,” said the black-haired boy from earlier, who was sitting on his left. “And you are?”

“Tom Riddle,” replied Tom somewhat sharply. He trusted no one, and wasn’t exactly eager to make friends. The concept of a ‘friend’ was completely foreign to him, and he found it pointless.

Orion seemed to be appraising Tom as he inspected him head-to-toe in a not very subtle fashion. Tom raised an eyebrow at this, an action that was not missed by Orion. He gave Tom a small nod of approval.

The blond sixth year on Tom’s right turned to him. “You know,” he said in a drawling voice with an air of arrogance, “I’ve never heard the name ‘Riddle’ before. What’s your blood?”

Tom paused for a moment, weighing his options quickly. He knew from reading about Salazar Slytherin in his History of Magic textbook that the wizard—and his House—thought that those of ‘pure’ wizarding blood were better than those of Muggle descent. If he bluffed and said he was a pureblood to fit Slytherin standards, he would definitely get caught in the lie later. But if he said he was an orphan, the other Slytherins would likely shun him. He decided that being shunned was more easily fixable than being caught.

“I don’t know,” he replied coolly, staring into the sixth year’s grey eyes. “And, really, it’s none of your concern.”

Several older students gave him patronising looks, while the first years looked at him with a mixture of awe and fear. “Well, if you don’t know, then why are you here? And for that matter, how does one go about not knowing? Who in your family was magical?”

“I don’t know because I’m an orphan,” said Tom flatly, wishing that the conversation would end.

“An orphan?” the sixth year repeated, as if he had never heard of such a thing. “You belong somewhere else, then. Why don’t you just get back on the train and go to your orphanage? We don’t need your kind in this House.”

“I have no desire to ever return to that orphanage again. And we don’t need your kind in this House either.” The sixth year laughed shortly. “My kind?”“Exactly. This House really doesn’t need such a slimy git.”The older boy’s ears turned red, and he flushed visibly as the surrounding students snorted into their dinners.

“You’re going to regret insulting me,” Tom said so softly only he and the sixth year heard it. Tom’s voice was silky smooth, and he could sense the sixth year’s discomfort as he visibly drew back from Tom.

“We’ll see,” the older boy said quietly, trying to sound braver than he felt.

“Yes,” Tom replied unflinchingly, looking him in the eye. “We certainly will.”

***

Later that night, Tom carefully pulled back the hangings around his bed and crept out of the dormitory. He quietly stole to the sixth year dormitory, and, wand aloft, entered. Finding the sixth year from earlier that night, he read the neatly engraved name on his trunk: ‘Abraxas Malfoy’. He silently moved to the boy’s nightstand and took his wand. With little effort, he snapped the wand in half, placed it on the nightstand, and crept back to his bed.

Tom’s last thought before drifting into slumber was that they would see. He hummed to himself softly; his most recent deed was already dismissed.

They would all see, in time, how different he was from the others. How special he was.