Sacrificial Serpent {Tom Riddle}

one

The cool September air filled Lyla Snape's lungs as she stood on Platform 9¾, gazing up at the Hogwarts Express with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The scarlet steam engine, with its clouds of billowing smoke, seemed both inviting and daunting as students bustled around, bidding farewells to parents and hurrying to secure seats for the long journey ahead. Lyla gripped the handle of her trunk with one hand, her other hand clutching her wand tightly in her pocket, as though it were a talisman of reassurance.

Beside her stood Severus Snape, her father, a tall and imposing figure clad in his usual flowing black robes. His expression, as ever, was inscrutable, his dark eyes flicking over the crowd with a keen intensity that made even the most confident students avert their gaze. But when those eyes turned to Lyla, there was a flicker of something softer, almost imperceptible.

"This is your moment, Lyla," Severus said quietly, his voice laced with the characteristic authority that had earned him his formidable reputation at Hogwarts. "Remember what we've talked about. You are a Snape. Our house is Slytherin, and you must uphold the dignity that comes with that name."

Lyla nodded, her throat tight with nerves. She knew how much this day meant to him. Slytherin was more than just a house; it was a legacy, a symbol of everything her father valued—ambition, cunning, and the subtle art of power. Yet, as much as she wanted to make him proud, there was a crippling fear in her mind. What if she wasn't sorted into Slytherin? What if she disappointed him?

"Don't worry, Dad," she replied, trying to sound confident despite the butterflies wreaking absolute havoc in her stomach. "I'll make you proud."

Severus gave a brief nod, the closest he ever came to a smile. "You already do," he murmured, almost too softly for her to hear.

With one last glance at her father, Lyla boarded the train, her heart still racing. She wandered down the narrow corridors, peering into compartments, searching for a seat. Most of them were full, students chattering excitedly, some already donning their house scarves. Lyla felt a pang of loneliness. She had been homeschooled by her father until now and had no friends to join on the train. However, that was all about to change.

"Oi, you there!" a voice called out, and Lyla turned to see a pale-haired boy waving her over. "Are you looking for a seat?"

Lyla hesitated, but the boy's grey eyes seemed friendly enough, so she nodded and stepped into the compartment. Inside, she found herself facing not just one boy, but several. And a girl, too. The pale-haired boy introduced himself as Draco Malfoy and quickly pointed out his friends: Blaise Zabini, with his dark skin and sharp features; Theodore Nott, quiet and observant; and Pansy Parkinson, who looked at Lyla with open curiosity.

"Lyla Snape," she introduced herself, her voice shy but steady.

"Snape?" Draco's eyes widened with interest. "As in Professor Snape?"

"Yes," Lyla confirmed, feeling a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

Draco exchanged a glance with Blaise. "Well, you're in good company then. We're all going to Slytherin, no doubt about it."

Lyla smiled weakly, unsure whether she wanted to be as confident as Draco. But as they continued talking, the tension eased, and Lyla found herself laughing and joining in their conversation. They talked about Hogwarts, the classes they were looking forward to, and the houses they hoped to be sorted into.

As the train sped towards Hogwarts, Lyla felt a growing sense of belonging. By the time they arrived at the castle, she felt as if she had known Draco, Blaise, Theodore, and Pansy her whole life.

The Sorting Ceremony took place in the Great Hall, under the watchful eyes of the four house tables and the professors seated at the front. Lyla's heart pounded as her name was called. She stepped forward, trying to ignore the eyes of every student in the room as she approached the Sorting Hat. She could feel her father's gaze on her, even though she didn't dare look up at the staff table.