The Heirs of The Noble House of Black

Chapter 2

"First years follow me, Slytherin first years, this way!" One of the prefects for Slytherin house was rounding up their newly sorted students to show them the way to the dungeons that held the Slytherin common room and dormitories. Tom walked alongside his peers in silence, contemplating the events at dinner. A sour taste came to his mouth as he thought back to Mulciber's defiant expression as he tried to insinuate that Tom was less than, that he wasn't worthy of sitting at the Slytherin table. With him, Mulciber, of all people! Like he was so great! Tom inwardly scoffed.

He thought back to the look on Mulciber's face when Lucius Malfoy had come to his defence. He had seemed shocked and outraged, as though he had been put in his place by somebody higher up on the social hierarchy than himself. Although Tom had spent the vast majority of the summer with his head buried in 'Hogwarts: A History' to learn as much as he could about the school before his arrival, it had told him nothing about the ranking of different families within the wizarding world, although from his first few hours within it he had already begun to realise just how prevalent it was within their society. Tom smiled to himself; if Malfoy carried that level of authority on the first day then he was clearly somebody he needed to befriend.

But then there was the issue of the girl, Lyra. She had said that she knew of a Riddle, that he was a pureblood and rich, things that Tom clearly needed to be to fit in. But he had never had a penny to his name, and he knew nothing of his family or their blood purity. Although after Malfoy's lecture to Mulciber he now knew that just by being sorted into slytherin house he couldn't be a muggleborn, which meant he must have some wizarding relation somewhere. What if I'm related to the Riddle man who Lyra had mentioned? He might even be my father or grandfather! He had to find out.

"Not far now, the entrance to the common room is just around this corner, the password is 'basilisk'" the prefect chirped, ushering the first years onwards. Tom hung back and tried to catch Lyra's attention, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts, just like she had at dinner and on the train. Airhead. Running out of patience, he roughly pulled her to the side whilst the last of the other first years rounded the corner.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing!" Lyra ripped her arm away from him, awoken abruptly from her trance-like state.

But in that moment Tom didn't care if he'd hurt her or if he'd let his pristine persona down to briefly reveal his true form; selfish with a hint of violence when he needed information.

"What do you know about your father's friend? The Italian one with the last name Riddle that you mentioned at dinner? What can you tell me about him?" He resisted the urge to shake her as she slowly rubbed her arm in the spot where he had grabbed her. The anger that was in her eyes when he grabbed her had fast dissipated, and now looked closer to something that resembled pity.

"I'm sorry Tom, that was a lie. I don't know anybody else with the last name Riddle."

"W-what," His heart deflated like a balloon. Why would she lie? Was it all a trick? A prank on the boy raised by muggles? His mind raced through every cruel possibility, but none of the conclusions he landed on were logical. Tom cleared his throat, feigning his usual calm composure so that the sinking feeling in his chest was not outwardly noticeable "what do you mean? Why would you do that?"

"You saw how they were treating Dolohov, it's the first night and he's already been ostracized by Mulciber. I got the impression that you were new to the wizarding world, I didn't want you to have to go through the same thing, so I lied."

Clearly she wasn't as much of an airhead as Tom had first thought. The whole day she had seemed so lost in her own thoughts, as though she didn't have a care for what the people around her were saying or doing, but she had seen through his charade before dinner was even over. Had his mask slipped so visibly? Did all of the others already know his secrets too? No, he was too careful for that, too precise. She must just be more observant than he had given her credit for, which meant that she was a threat. Especially as she knew the cover of him being related to the important Italian wizard was lie. She could tell anyone at any point that she wanted, and he would be treated like Dolohov. Shunned, less than. He shuddered. He had spent enough of his time feeling out of place at the orphanage, there was no way he was going to allow that to happen here. This was finally his chance to prove that he was important, he was special, he was someone. He felt the anger rise from deep within his bones. This stupid little girl was NOT going to stand in his way.