Chapter 5 - The Other Houses

Written by Nemesis

Tom was wandering through the hallway. It was not a Hogwarts hallway, but one he had never seen before. It was shadowed, with sinister-looking Muggle photographs on the walls. With every step, Tom felt a sense of foreboding. Tom looked down into his hand and saw that he had his wand out. He thought this was probably a good idea, something about the hall gave him the creeps.

A sudden breeze came in from the next room. Tom looked in, and saw that the window was open, lacy curtains fluttering in the gust. He slowly walked over and closed the window and shut the drapes. As he turned to leave, a mirror caught his eye. It was full-length and edged with gold. Right now, it was pointed away from Tom, so he strolled over and looked at the front of it.

He saw himself standing there, wearing his Hogwarts uniform. Tom realized he was a few years older, probably about fourteen or fifteen, and he seemed a little paler than usual. Then, without warning, the reflection in the mirror began to change. It grew taller, going from slender to skeletal, the skin going even paler. Tom took a few steps back in horror as the reflection acquired a completely new face. It was gaunt and flat, with slits for nostrils and gleaming red eyes. "Behold," it laughed. The laugh was a high-pitched, frigid cackle. "Behold," the reflection repeated. It raised its wand and pointed it at Tom.

There was a blinding flash of green light…

"No!"

Tom was sitting bolt-upright in bed, his eyes as wide as saucers, breathing hard. The heavy, green velvet drapes of his bed were shut, but from the sound of it, none of the other Slytherin boys were awake. Tom opened the drapes slightly and checked his alarm clock. It was three o'clock in the morning, the morning after Tom had arrived at Hogwarts. Hands shaking, Tom got up and walked over to the window, where there was a small tap on the windowsill, along with five labeled goblets.

He filled his goblet with water and sipped it nervously as he stared out of the window. It was still dark, and it was raining as hard as ever. Tom sat down on the stool near his bed, still shaking. The dream was still vivid in his mind, especially that face with the red eyes. God, what a horrible face. It looked like a snake's face transfigured to fit a human head, and those eyes… Tom shuddered convulsively. There was a rustling sound, and Francis Malfoy poked his head out of the drapes. Tom glared at him. "Leave me alone," Tom murmured. The only reason Francis had not ratted (or cursed Tom in his sleep) was that two other Slytherin boys, Zuhayr Sahabjira and Adrian Müller, had threatened to put the Body Bind on him if he did.

"Why should I leave you alone, Mudblood?" Francis smirked.

"I'm a half-blood, Malfoy, when are you going to get that through your thick skull?" Tom said softly, his eyes boring into Francis like a pair of turquoise drills. "Now leave me alone, or I will make you." Francis was about to make another snide remark, but he stopped. He had realized that Tom was twirling his wand between his long fingers, looking quite like he might be considering cursing Francis again. Francis leered at him and whipped his drapes closed. It was hard to tell which face showed deeper dislike.

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At eight o'clock, Tom woke again to a more active dormitory. Tiny, tubby Richard Zabini was hopping around, trying to get his foot into a sock. Adrian was fully dressed, waiting for Zuhayr, who was hurriedly trying to get ready. Tom panicked, worried that he might be late for class, but he remembered that class started at nine, and he still had an hour.

"Hey, Tom," Zuhayr grinned. "I see you're finally awake."

"I had a bad night," Tom replied loftily. The other boys laughed. "I had a nightmare about this hideous, evil specter…"

Adrian got a glint in his eye. "Speaking of which, where is Francis?" he asked. Tom and Zuhayr chortled, but Richard looked mildly offended.

"He went down to the common room already," Zuhayr responded, struggling to get his robes over his head. "Had this enormous book with him. Something about curses."

Tom thought rather nervously that Francis might be plotting revenge, but he did not let it bother him too much. His mind was still on the dream. What had it meant?

He washed up in the dormitory bathroom, dressed quickly, and followed Zuhayr and Adrian down the steps into the circular common room, leaving Richard still bouncing around the room. Like the Gryffindors, the Slytherins had a whole tower to themselves, and their common room was round and cozy. Tom saw Francis sitting before the fire, his face hidden behind 101 Easy Curses. When Tom passed him, Francis looked up and shot a glance of pure venom at him. "Nice to see you too, Francis," Tom said, giving Francis a fake grin.

"Smarmy git," Adrian added in an undertone as they walked away. "Bet he's trying to find something like the Carrot Curse to try on you."

Tom tossed his wand up in the air and caught it expertly. "Let's go down to breakfast, " Tom suggested.

"Good idea," Zuhayr replied. "I'm getting sick to my stomach being within smelling distance of Malfoy there."

The three boys headed down to the Great Hall, where most of the students were already dining. Larkin Mallory was waiting for them, munching on bacon and eggs. "Finally, the lazy crew turns up," she grinned. "Pull up some chairs." Larkin was a very pretty girl, but she could look quite tough if she wanted. Richard was already terrified of her.

Tom sat down between Larkin and Adrian, while Zuhayr sat across from them. Instantly, an extensive breakfast appeared on their golden breakfast plates. "So, what about this dream you had, Tom?" Zuhayr smiled. "What happened?"

Tom nearly choked on his bacon at the memory of it. "I don't want to talk about it," he said shortly, loading his fork with omelet. "It was really weird." That was the last time Tom mentioned the dream for a long time, and his friends did not protest.

Suddenly, there was a large amount of whispering, and emerald-green sheets of paper were passed along the table. "Course schedules!" a third-year cried, handing Tom a schedule with his name on it. The schedule told him he had Double Herbology with the Ravenclaws first thing. Just as Tom read this, there was a roar of rage from the Ravenclaw table. Several first-years were standing up, and one ran right up to Professor Dippet. "Why'd we get stuck sharing a class with those freaks?" the boy demanded hotly. Next came the Gryffindors, who also seemed peeved. The Hufflepuffs did not cry out at all, but they looked terrified.

"Potions was going to be my favorite class!" a Gryffindor girl shrieked. "How could you ruin it for us all?" The Hufflepuffs cast a set of identical, petrified glances toward the Slytherin table.

"That explains it," Adrian scoffed, looking at his schedule. "They're all upset because they have Double classes with us. See? We have Potions with the Gryffindors, and Charms with the Hufflepuffs." Tom frowned.

"Why would they be upset about having classes with us?"

"It's obvious, Tom," Larkin said, surprised. "Over the years, so many rich jerks have been made Slytherin, they think we're all that way." Tom looked mortally offended. "It's a bunch of hooey, of course," Larkin continued, "but with little rats like Malfoy scurrying around, the rumor seems true to them."

To make matters worse, Francis (who had just arrived) chose this time to loudly proclaim, "Ugh, we've got Herbology with all the fatheads!"

The Ravenclaws looked daggers at the Slytherins, and some of them shouted back, "Well, you shouldn't complain, we're having Herbology with all the two-timing snobs!"

"THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH!" Professor Dippet cried. "Five points from Ravenclaw, and Mr. Malfoy, you will pay off your outburst in detention." There was a ringing silence, and Tom turned back to his breakfast.

His stomach felt like a knot. Since when did the other Houses hate Slytherin? In his mother's photograph, her best friend was a Gryffindor. No, it could not be right. Tom got up from the table. "Where are you going?" Adrian asked. "You've barely eaten anything."

"I have to get ready for class," Tom replied absently. As he passed the Ravenclaw table, he caught the eye of a prefect and smiled. The Ravenclaw girl looked at him like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. "Morning," Tom called, hoping for any kind of response. The girl scowled at him and stuck out her tongue. His worst suspicions confirmed, Tom sighed heavily and hurried back to Slytherin Tower.

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Tom had quite been looking forward to Herbology, but by the end of his first lesson, he was feeling doubtful. The teacher, Professor Sevigny, was a very good professor, but she could do little to stop the Ravenclaws from expressing their anger with the Slytherins over Francis's comment. Tom and Adrian ended up pruning the same Viridius plant as Fiona Jedias and Victoria Tanner, both of Ravenclaw. When Tom tried to engage them in conversation, the two of them just sneered at him. "Why do you hate us so much?" Tom demanded angrily.

"Is that the wind, Fiona?" Victoria scoffed. "I can't hear anybody talking."

At this, Tom lost his temper completely; without warning, their Viridius exploded, showering the two Ravenclaw girls with Viridian Juice. Both of them turned a brilliant shade of green and began sizzling, squealing in pain. Somehow, Tom managed to smooth it over, making it look like one of the girls had accidentally pruned one of the juice-filled bulbs. Professor Sevigny had to hurry off to the hospital wing with Fiona and Victoria in tow.

In distinctly low spirits, the Slytherins made their way up to Professor Xavier's Defense Against the Dark Arts class after lunch. Only Francis and Richard were happy. Unlike Tom and his friends, they seemed to find the demise of Victoria and Fiona amusing. "Did you see the look on their faces, the little prats?" Francis kept laughing.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was a far better experience than Herbology. First thing, Professor Xavier showed them a Red Cap in a tank, explaining its anatomy and powers. "The Red Cap is a distant relative of the vampire," Professor Xavier informed them. "See his fangs? They contain tiny canals into his stomach, and he sucks blood through his teeth." Annie Lewis retched and looked distinctly ill. Professor Xavier then explained how to ward off the Red Cap, hinting that there may be a test on the subject in the near future. Tom paid rapt attention and took so many notes that he used up a whole two-meter roll of parchment and significantly lowered his supply of ink.

"What do we have next?" Tom asked Zuhayr as they trooped out of the classroom.

"Transfiguration," Zuhayr replied, pulling out his Transfiguration book and his wand. "After that's Double Charms with Hufflepuff."

"Damn it, another Double class?" Zuhayr nodded grimly.

Professor Dumbledore greeted them outside the door of his classroom. He had a very long, straight nose, and his hair and beard were long enough to tuck into his belt. As they piled into the classroom, Tom accidentally collided head-on with Professor Dumbledore. Tom hit the floor, and Professor Dumbledore stumbled. "Sorry!" Tom gasped. "I'm so sorry, somebody hit me from the side--"

"Nice going, Riddle!" Francis called over Richard Zabini's head. Both of them were cackling stupidly. Professor Dumbledore looked at them sternly, and they fell silent at once.

He held out a hand and helped Tom off the floor. "Thanks--sorry," Tom mumbled awkwardly.

"You're welcome, and it's no problem," Dumbledore replied, smiling. "Tom Riddle, right?" Tom nodded.

Tom took a seat at the very front of the room, eager to begin. He had his hand on his wand. Professor Dumbledore swept up to his desk, took roll, and began the lesson. Again, Tom took a very extensive set of notes. He did not want to miss a thing. After the lecture was over, Professor Dumbledore handed out matches, which they were supposed to turn into needles. As Tom looked down at his match, he felt slightly disappointed. After turning bits of paper onto birds, this seemed too easy.

He took his wand out of his belt and tapped the match carelessly. Instantly, it became a perfect needle. Professor Dumbledore, who was pacing up the rows and giving people tips, saw Tom staring at the table and not doing anything. "Having trouble?" he started to ask, but he saw the needle lying on the desk, then looked up at Tom, who looked positively bored. "Mr. Riddle has done it," Professor Dumbledore announced, showing the class Tom's needle. "Good Lord, that only took you a few seconds. Can I see you at my desk, Tom?"

Francis sniggered. Tom looked up at the professor. Had he done something wrong? When he got to Professor Dumbledore's desk, the teacher pulled a flower out of the drawer. "Turn this into a butterfly, please, Tom," Professor Dumbledore prompted. Tom sighed. This was also too easy. A moment later, a large yellow butterfly was fluttering around the room.

Professor Dumbledore looked impressed. "You know your stuff," he chuckled. "Let's see…" He dug around in his desk and withdrew a teapot. "How about transfiguring this into a box turtle?" Tom was beginning to grow frustrated. Why was the teacher giving him so much easy work? The teapot vanished, replaced by a very grumpy looking turtle.

People were now standing up to see what Tom was doing. Professor Dumbledore kept giving him harder and harder objects to transfigure, until Tom (with a bit of difficulty) turned a pair of rabbits into a pair of bunny slippers and the professor had to give it a rest. He was looking at Tom with a mixture of amazement and confusion. "How much can you do?" he asked slowly. His blue eyes were twinkling.

Tom shuffled his feet. "That's probably it," he said softly. "Maybe a bit more, but I'm not sure how far I--"

The bell rang, and Tom hurriedly snatched his bookbag and rushed off before Dumbledore could ask him to do anything else. His face was bright pink, and his classmates kept staring at him.

Charms was taught by a small young man named Professor Flitwick, who looked like he was just out of school himself, and he had a voice like he had been breathing helium since birth. Tom took a seat close to a window, his quill at the ready. The Slytherins were there a lot earlier than the Hufflepuffs, who had to come all the way up from the Potions dungeon. When the Hufflepuffs arrived, they appeared to be scared out of their wits, and they took seats as far away from the Slytherins as possible.

Charms was nearly as bad as Herbology, but for an entirely different reason. The students were supposed to make their button hop across the table, and Tom, of course, mastered this before anybody else. Professor Flitwick, delighted, had Tom go around and help all of the Hufflepuffs, who were too nervous to perform the charm properly. Tom sighed heavily and made his way over to the Hufflepuffs. All of them looked extremely ill.

"Hi, Abby," Tom said, starting with the only Hufflepuff he knew. Abby squealed and shrank into her chair, shuddering. "Okay, all you need to do is--"

"I can do it by myself!" Abby squeaked, sounding very much like Professor Flitwick.

Tom glared at her and moved on to the next Hufflepuff, Daniel Jarvis, who only allowed Tom to help because he was too frightened to object. Half an hour later, Tom was beginning to wonder why the Hufflepuffs were so very afraid of the Slytherins, but at that instant, Michelle Field of Hufflepuff let out a long, piercing scream. Tom looked up sharply, and he saw that her right arm was covered with large green boils. Professor Flitwick rushed over, panicked, but Tom made it there first.

"Avrecio Mavarium," he cried, pointing his want at Michelle's arm. The boils disappeared, but Michelle did not look at all grateful. She scowled at him, her mild Hufflepuff temper exploding for once.

"YOU SLYTHERIN RAT!" She pointed at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. "WHY DID YOU CURSE ME?"

"He didn't curse you, dear, he performed the counter-curse," Professor Flitwick said soothingly.

"Yes, after he cursed me!" she shrieked. Tom felt a surge of anger, and the wand in his hand suddenly gave off a jet of golden sparks. He hurriedly tucked it back into his belt.

"I didn't curse you," Tom snapped. "I had my wand away when you were cursed. Griffith Pearson can back me up, right?" Griffith nodded, wincing and clearly feeling bad for assisting an enemy. "Besides, why would I curse you, and then un-curse you? It doesn't make sense."

Michelle sank back into her seat, bristling. Tom looked back over at the Slytherin half of the room, and was not at all surprised to see that Francis Malfoy was smirking at him, his wand smoking. Richard Zabini was snickering. Professor Flitwick did not notice, and he went on with the lesson.

By the end of class, Tom had a few minor burns on his hands and wrists. Some of the Hufflepuffs decided to "accidentally" let sparks out of their wands, still not believing Tom was innocent. Michelle Field had abandoned all pretense and tried to curse him, but it had not worked. Professor Flitwick had had to take ten points from Hufflepuff to get her to stop.

"You think Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are bad," Adrian warned him, "wait till we get to Potions. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs dislike us immensely. The Gryffindors hate us."

Tom looked down at his charred hands, which Professor Flitwick had deemed unworthy of a visit to the hospital wing. "Let's just hope the Gryffindors don't know how to do much more than send sparks, either," Tom sighed. He thanked the Sages that Michelle Field had a lisp, or she would have pronounced "sasprissionis" correctly, and Tom would have Jelly Legs on top of everything else.

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History of Magic, which was the Slytherins' first class on Tuesdays, would soon become one of Tom's favorites. The teacher, Professor Twiddy, was a tall black woman who knew how to make history interesting. On their very first day, Professor Twiddy handed out battle plans used in real goblin rebellions, saying that they would be directing trained pixies in replications of various important battles. She also promised they would have witch trials and other role-playing activities, all of which would help them learn history. By the end of the day, it was most Slytherins' favorite class.

Only Francis had anything to complain about, and that was that Professor Twiddy did not seem to like him. Then again, that did not surprise anybody except Richard Zabini.

Potions, however, was precisely the opposite. Professor Chapman was Head of Slytherin House, with a small beard and mustache, dusty-grey hair, and eyes the same color as Mr. Ollivander's. He was very strict, but Tom did not mind this. The Gryffindors were the problem. However friendly a Slytherin might try to be, the Gryffindors would be more likely to curse him or her than try diplomacy.

When they were making Swelling Solution, Molly Robbins had dipped a gloved hand into her cauldron and chucked a blob of potion across the room to the Slytherins. It hit the bespectacled Annie Lewis in the shoulder, and she had to hurry up to the front of the room, whimpering in pain as her shoulder ballooned to an enormous size. Professor Chapman gave Molly a detention and deducted fifty points from Gryffindor. The Gryffindors roared with outrage.

"Why do they look so upset?" Larkin had sneered over her cauldron. "They didn't get splattered with potion, now, did they?" Tom glared over at the Gryffindors, who were comforting Molly. He quickly decided they were troublemakers in a bad way, after all. Lucy Chubb shot him a dirty look, and he averted his eyes.

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Before anyone knew it, it was October. Since the beginning, Tom had wanted to learn everything. He was naturally ambitious, and this was probably increased by his acquired urge to prove himself. Tom wanted to demonstrate to everybody that he was not Tommy Salami anymore, that he could be more than that. In that sense, he succeeded immensely. By October, Tom was at the top of every class, studying harder than everybody else. His circle of friends had widened to include all of the first-year Slytherin girls and a good number of elder students, though Larkin, Zuhayr, and Adrian remained his closest companions. Even Richard Zabini was sometimes friendly, though he was generally loyal to Francis.

Unfortunately, the other Houses remained vindictive. The Ravenclaws, who were quite wordy, came up with brilliant insults, and the Hufflepuffs were adept at spreading rumors about older Slytherins. Tom was particularly unpopular with the Hufflepuffs, who still seemed to think he had cursed little Michelle Field. One day a fourth-year Hufflepuff, Rankin Prewitt, bribed Peeves the Poltergeist to sneak up on Tom in a hallway and draw polka dots on his robes with chalk. Tom had had to go to History of Magic looking like a white leopard in reverse.

However, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were nothing to the Gryffindors. For no reason other than sadism, a bunch of Gryffindors enchanted several buckets of water so that they would hover near the ceiling. Whenever a Slytherin walked under one, the bucket would overturn and dump water on the person's head. This got the Gryffindors into an awful lot of trouble, but not until after they had drenched all the Slytherins in the school at least twice.

On the first weekend of October, Tom, who had some free time for once, was curled up in the common room reading An Assortment of Interesting Curses and Charms. His friends were playing Exploding Snap and Gobstones on the rug, while Francis and Richard conversed in low tones, once in a while looking over to see if Tom was eavesdropping. Tom did not mind if they were plotting his assassination. He already knew disarming and blocking spells, and was confident that he could avoid being hexed by either of them.

All of a sudden, a piece of parchment appeared by the door. The first-years rushed over to read the notice.

ATTENTION FIRST-YEAR SLYTHERINS:
Flying Lessons will begin on Thursday at nine o'clock on the side lawn of the school. Broomsticks will be provided, and your instructor will be Secunda Milviron.
Slytherins should also note that they are having this class with the Gryffindors.

Tom felt his heart sink.

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