Twisted Souls (A Bellamort Story)

Chapter 2: Tom

Tom allowed himself to smile slightly as he stepped onto the Hogsmeade Station platform. He heard a voice from somewhere off to his left call,

'First-years! First-year over here!" Professor Hornette appeared a few feet away from Tom. She held a pointed nose up in the air, ushering young kids toward her. Here thin eyebrows made her dark brown eyes standout in a narrow face, giving them a dreamy look. But, for Tom, it was not her eyes that caught his attention, but an enormous boy, bustling through the crowd toward her. Tom remained transfixed as he stared at the boy. His inky black hair hung of his scalp in a shaggy mess that came down to his shoulders. He struggled to make his way through the crowd, having a torso as big as the face of a small boulder, and knocking over several human-sized children to the ground, including Tom.

"Hey, watch it!" he snarled.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that. I'm Rubeus Hagrid. And who are you?" Tom narrowed his eyes at the boy, then slipped away, not wanting to interact with what looked to by a half-giant. "Hey, wait! Come back!" Tom thought savagely about what Dippet was thinking when he decided to let a half-giant in, but before he could ponder, another teacher beckoned him forward.

"Professor Hornette," said a voice beside him, and Tom felt his mind snapped toward the voice. Bellatrix Black stood a couple feet away from him, her face drawn in disgust. "Who is that?" She pointed a manicured finger at Hagrid. The woman looked over and before replying.

"I don't know. But I've heard that Professor Dumbledore persuaded Headmaster Dippet to enrol him." The girl huffed indignantly, throwing a dirty look Hagrid's back as the boy ducked under the golden arch before flouncing off toward the golden gates below it. Tom saw Bellatrix's mouth drop in awe.

A huge castle sat atop a range of highlands, towers soaring high into the star-speckled sky. Pointed turrets joined the towers, reaching up almost as high. A luge lake lay in front of the castle and the lush greenery around it, its black waters rippling gently in the steady breeze. Tom's mouth curved into a grin.

"Whoa," whispered Bellatrix, continuing forward. Tom quickly followed her to a small peer where currently a dozen students filled a boat and were pushed forward into the lake.

As he got off his carriage, he lost Bellatrix, but nevertheless, followed the disappearing mass of students into an enormous hall. Four long tables stretched from the entrance up to another table that ran along the opposite side. A thin, slender woman wearing deep red robes had appeared, presumably coming down the steep staircase of to the left. Tom filed through the aisles, as he'd down many times now, and took a seat near the front of Slytherin Table. He heard the muffled voice of Professor Astral given to him two years ago.

"I am Professor Astral. Once these doors open-" she must've gestured to the large doors behind her, "you will follow me to the other end of the hall to be sorted into your houses," said the professor. "They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." Tom felt a spark inside of him at the last house. That was his house. He wondered who would join him.

As the first-years entered the hall, Tom noticed Bellatrix immediately. She strode purposefully forward, unlike her fellows, who were wobbling forward as all the other students were staring at the them as they made their way past. In fact, Tom noticed line of teachers against the side wall, who peered down at them as well. Professor Merrythought, had an eyebrow raised above her square spectacles. Professor Slughorn, with a pine-coloured hat and purple robes, was smiling slightly. But a slime man in light grey robes with half-moon spectacles and a lengthy white beard wasn't staring down at them. He was staring at Slytherin Table. At him.

Albus Dumbledore. Tom settled his eyes on him. This had been the man who informed him of what he was. The one to allow him refuge from his horrible childhood. But even, so, Tom knew that day in the orphanage two and a half years ago had been more that an invite. Tom narrowed his eyes at the man, who continued to look down his nose at him. Eventually, to his great annoyance, Tom broke eye contact first and gazed at the small group of students at the front. Finally, Professor Astral began to speak again. She had brought out a small stool and the Sorting Hat, though a hat was and understatement; several patches were wrinkled with time and there was a large rip across the front. Even so the hat moved and squirm, to hare wrinkles forming the shape of eyes, and immediately it began to sing a song. Each year it sang a new one, and each time Tom disliked them more and more.

A loud applause sounded through the hall as the song finished. Tom didn't clap, though. Instead he noticed Bellatrix had raised an eyebrow. Tom didn't have time to wonder this though, as Professor Astral spoke again as the clapping died down.

"Once I call out you name, you will come forward and be sorted into your houses." She held out a long roll of parchment. "Abracus, Otis." A small boy with huge eyes wobbled over toward the stool and slammed down onto it. As the Sorting Hat hit his head, there was silence, before it yelled,

"RAVENCLAW!" Applause erupted from the table farthest to his right as Otis stumbled toward them. This routine continued a few more times before a name that actually interested him was called.

"Black, Bellatrix." Tom looked up and saw the girl stride over toward the tool and sit down gracefully. Somehow, Tom found himself holding his breath. The silence barely lasted be before the hat yelled,

"SLYTHERIN!" Another round of cheers came from his table. Tom couldn't help but joining in as Bellatrix sat down across from him.

"Well done. You've got table manners." Bellatrix snorted.

"You should get them too." Tom didn't laugh. Something prickled on the back of his neck; he turned to see Professor Dumbledore starting at him again, eye narrowed. The pride left him. Tom wasn't sure why, but suspicion grew inside of him as he gazed back into those clear blue eyes. He once again broke eye contact first, and turned to the now filled plates of food waiting for him, the lingering feeling of suspicion mounting inside.