Lies and falsehoods, armour made of ambition and cruelty. Irremediably, Tom Riddle's destiny has been written from the beginning, foreseeing a dark and deviant path. But to everything there is an exception, and Anastasia Atwell did not know she was...
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Tom Marvolo Riddle
SEPTEMBER 1, 1945
The idea of being ever closer to the end of a long and amazing journey such as studying at one of the best schools of wizardry and witchcraft in the world, Hogwarts, made everyone excited.
The train journey had been quiet, relaxing like all the others in previous years, although it looked different. Perhaps a little melancholic.
The Great Hall was teeming with students, first years looking around in amazement, others meeting after the summer break to tell each other everything that happened during the holidays. They all had one thing in common: the sparkle in their eyes at the sight of that magnificent hall, lit by the floating candles, the starry sky that watched over them and the large windows. For each of them, somehow, Hogwarts had the same smell of home.
At least, it had become so for Anastasia Atwell, who had never had a proper home. Certainly, she had a physical place to stay during the holidays. But the relationship with the family, not being the best, was never taken into consideration regardless. But this is a matter for another day.
Rivers of young kids stand in front of the teachers' table, waiting for their moment of the fateful sorting. A light in their eyes distinguished them from the others, that of hope and excitement, of joy and real emotion.
The large tables of all four houses were laid festively, with good steaming food and very inviting aromas. The first year students patiently waited for the sorting ceremony to begin, while Professor Dippet welcomed them with a big smile.
Anastasia reached the Slytherin table alongside Druella Rosier, the one who over the years had turned out to be not only the one with the most brain, but also the one with the gentlest soul. Not typical for the house in which she had been sorted, however. Although, the same could be said for the Head of the House of Slytherin, dear old Professor Slughorn, who sat in the back of the room with other professors, looking at his House's table with a more than happy expression to find all his pupils all together again.
"We are now in the last year, and I still have to understand why we have to attend the sorting ceremony every time", Druella complained, twisting a lock of her fiery red hair between her fingers.
Anastasia tried to hold back a feeble laugh. "I suppose it is a matter of receiving and welcoming the little ones and setting a good example for them."
"Understandable. But why not do it early in the morning? We could celebrate now."
"Celebrate?"
"Celebrate!" she replied, sitting next to all the other friends. In order, Abraxas Malfoy, who greeted both girls with a warm smile; Orion Black, who nodded at them; Walburga sitting next to him with her arm intertwined with his, who winked and, unfortunately, Tom Riddle, who didn't give either of them the slightest glance.
