September 1st, 1938
Platform 9 ¾
Running towards a brick column at full speed seemed a ridiculous way to enter a magical alternate platform. Tom Riddle stared in horror at the absurd suggestion of running at a solid object, in full view of hundreds of muggles, with the possible humiliation of crashing into the imposing arched column. How ridiculous. He was about to turn his trolley back around, convinced it was all a trap, when a family appeared in wizarding attire, attracting stares from confused muggles. The three children, all with dark hair and freckles, pushed trolleys loaded with a trunk and an owl in front of them. Definitely wizards. He watched as each of the children pushed their trolleys through an invisible barrier, followed by their parents walking through at a sensible pace behind them. That damn Professor had tricked him; you didn't need to run at it like a fool.
Gripping the handle of his trolley, Tom Riddle slowly and nervously began to push his trolley towards the column. Just as the tip of his trolley was about to hit the brick, he closed his eyes in anticipation. Surprisingly, he felt nothing as he continued to walk as though nothing obstructing was there. Opening his eyes, he was greeted with a most magnificent sight. With the golden painted letters on the steam engine, a bright scarlet train gleamed on the illuminated platform. The Hogwarts Express lived up to its name. The platform was filled with excited students jumping with excitement while their parents held tears in their eyes. Childish, Tom thought. Carrying his black leather trunk with gold-encrusted initials, he approached the train with determination. The young man was pleased to arrive early and knew he must find a carriage before the remaining students arrived. Placing his trunk in the baggage compartment, he made his way through the crowds of older students in the hallways, choosing an empty compartment closer to the front of the train.
The summer had been an agonising wait, anticipating the inevitable day he would step into the halls of the infamous Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Already prepared for the upcoming year, Tom's intentions were to establish himself well in the eyes of his teachers and a leader among his peers. It would establish his security and connections throughout his education. As much as he would begrudgingly admit he admired Gisela's uncle, he was determined not to depend on the man. She needed more than just a suspiciously motivated Grindelwald family member for protection.
A loud click interrupted Tom from his thoughts, the compartment door sliding open with a horrible screech. A short boy, wearing a houseless tie, stood at the cabin entrance, looking unsure. He had dirty blonde hair, combed neatly, with deep brown eyes set aside a short, sharp nose. His robes were perfectly tailored and of the finest quality. Money meant connections, however, so Tom straightened his back and presented a polite smile. The boy could be useful.
"Can I sit here? My brother won't let me sit with the older Slytherins until I'm sorted," asked the boy, with a high-pitched voice, gripping the edge of the door nervously.
"Of course," smirked Tom, offering the nervous boy a seat. He shuffled over, sitting across from Tom, sticking his hand out nervously.
"Damian Nott."
"Tom Riddle."
"I've never heard of the Riddle family," Damian frowned, confusion washing over his face.
"It's just my English name. My family is German," Tom smoothly replied, his story already well prepared and set in stone.
"Oh," exclaimed the small boy in excitement, "are you here because of the war?"
"Yes."
"How fascinating! What house do you think you'll be sorted into?" Damian asked, babbling at an annoyingly quick pace.
"Slytherin."
"Me too! Although my brother says I'm too soft and would be better off in Hufflepuff. I would be disowned if that happened."
"How unfortunate," Tom drawled, trying his best to seem remotely concerned.
"Do you know anyone else here?" Damien smiled.
"No."
"Oh, well, I'll introduce you to some of my friends then. Slytherins must stick together," he grinned.
"I would appreciate that. Tell me, who are these friends of yours?" he queried, leaning forward in interest.
"Rodolphus Lestrange and Pollux Avery. Both sacred twenty-eight. They both prefer to use their last names. Rodolphus has his father's name, so it was confusing at family dinners, and Pollux... well, let's just say it's a rather unfortunate name," he sniggered. Tom took note of the new information eagerly.
"When might we be introduced?"
"As soon as they find me. They'll no doubt be jumping on at the last second. Both their mothers are suffocating, you see."
"I see. Anyone I might have to watch out for?" Tom inquired.
"Ah! Well, yes, you see, there's another group of purebloods who are, should I say, hard to impress. Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov and, of course, Malfoy. They don't like me much..." replied Damien, fidgeting with his hands. "And Orion Black, but he won't be at Hogwarts until next year."
"Interesting, hard to impress? In what way?"
"Well, all purebloods are well-off. They're just more well-off," he chuckled. Tom's heart sank, realising there was nothing he could do to alter that aspect of his identity.
Damien jumped in surprise at the sound of the carriage door screeching open, revealing the two boys Tom assumed he was just talking about. The first boy was tall and lean, with golden brown skin, short dark curls, and deep brown inquisitive eyes. The second was short, pale and stocky, with messy strawberry-blonde hair and green eyes.
"Lestrange, Avery! I thought you'd miss the train," teased Damien. The tall boy whacked him over the head with a book in return.
"Shush, Damien," he laughed, "We got held up."
"I see you've replaced us already!" joked the shorter boy, eyes directed to the unfamiliar figure in the carriage.
"Oh! Meet Tom Riddle. He's probably going to be in Slytherin too," Damien smiled. "The idiot who whacked me is Lestrange, and shorty here is Avery."
"Hey!" huffed Avery in protest.
"A pleasure to meet you both," said Tom, with an artificial smile.
"Riddle?" frowned Lestrange. "Never heard of that family."
"Just the English translation. My family is German," Tom replied confidently, hiding his nerves.
"Ah! The war?"
"Indeed," chuckled Tom, thankful the international crisis provided a decoy that needed no explanation.
"Well, Tom, I hope Hogwarts outdoes the famous myths of the mighty Durmstrang!"
Tom bit his tongue. How he wished to tell them all about Gisela, his wonderful friend who attended the infamous institute, and all her tales of the mysterious school. After the explosion, Klaus stressed how important it was to keep Gisela non-existence in the eyes of Grindelwald's enemies, the principal of which was Albus Dumbledore, the nasty Professor who had paid him a visit. She could be kidnapped to be used as bait. Tom would never cause such atrocity.
"Oh well, probably best you're here. It's not looking pretty on the continent," assured Damien, "my parents argue about it all the time."
"Yes, and it is only getting worse," Tom replied sternly.
"Well! Let's not get glum," Avery pushed in, "the famous sweets trolley should be along anytime soon."
As the conversation continued, Tom became more aware of just how out of touch he was. While he was mindful of Quidditch, he didn't keep up with the teams and latest tournaments. He personally found the idea of throwing balls around on a broomstick rather unappealing. Still, it appeared to be the centre of conversation with the young men his age. He spent most of the conversation absorbing as much information as he could, storing it for later. The ability to fly was important, and unfortunately, it was not something he could practice in advance. The inevitable lessons made him anxious.
Thankfully, the sporting conversation he couldn't contribute paused at the arrival of the trolley. A middle-aged woman with a toothy smile opened the door, offering a large arrangement of sweets to the group of boys. While Damien and Avery jumped at the opportunity and splurged with their abundance of coins, Tom and Lestrange refrained and settled for a chocolate frog each.
"Oh dear, chocolate frogs!" exclaimed Avery, "make sure they don't escape. Mother has to cast a spell to stop them moving for me."
Tom refrained from rolling his eyes, pulling his wand out and opening the lid of the box. With a whisper "immobulus", the frog was stopped before it could attempt to jump. He snatched it up and took a satisfying bite out of the marvellous chocolate, inwardly smirking at the shocked faces of the other boys.
"Can you do that for me?" asked Lestrange sheepishly. Tom nodded, whispering the same charm on the other frog as it escaped from the box. Avery and Damien's jaws dropped while Lestrange gave a grateful smirk.
"How do you do that? Cast the spell whispering, I mean. Father says you have to put force into your voice for spells to work," Damien asked.
"You just have to mean it," Tom smirked in reply.
Tom was surprised at just how impressed the boys were at a simple immobilising spell. It had been simple to master, and why on earth they were surprised he could whisper it was beyond him. Casting spells loudly seemed stupid, as it gives away the incantation to an opponent. Tom had almost been able to do the spell non-verbally, like a few other charms he had mastered. Whatever the reason for their reaction, he could use this to his advantage. If his magical abilities were really so advanced, they could distract his peers from his lack of status and wealth.
"You have to teach us when we get to school!" exclaimed Damien. "Then I'll have something impressive to show Father when I get home, which my brother can't do."
"I'd be happy to," he replied, casting a charming smile at the group.
Leverage already? How convenient.
~~~~
Why hello, dearest readers. I am useless, I know. It has been over a year since I updated this fanfiction. University and work meant I only had a small amount of time to write, in which I prioritised my original works. I am glad to return to this fanfiction finally, and hope to also get back to "The Greater Good".
Tom's plotline will begin to appear more equally to Gisela's now. My order of chapters is designed so I can go back and add chapters if I feel there needs to be something filled in. The reality of publishing chapter by chapter. This fanfiction will cover 1926-1950ish, so I need some flexibility to dictate 24 intense years of two people's lives.
A reminder that this is all unedited, so I understand there may be some mistakes. I will edit once I have completed the work, as that is my writing process to keep me actually getting words on the page.
Any questions, please ask.