The Story of Sheila Riddle (Harry Potter Fanfic)

Chapter 1

Sheila, a pretty 11-year-old girl with long and straight golden-brown hair and eyes of the same color, found herself wandering back and forth between platforms nine and ten, shaking uncontrollably as she held her Hogwarts letter in front of herself. She hardly knew how she had managed to gather all her needed materials for the first school year. She was still shocked at the news. A witch? How was it even possible? How could an entire society of magic have kept themselves hidden under the noses of common folk?

Sheila finally stopped her pacing, coming to a halt next to the barrier dividing platforms nine and ten where she had parked her trolley. She still stared at her letter, not really reading it. She felt someone brush up against her and at last she put the letter away.

"Oops! Sorry," a tall blonde-haired boy was saying.

She didn't say anything, just stared at him blankly. He took a quick look at the contents of her trolley and seemed to guess her predicament at once.

"Hogwarts first year, are you? Let me guess. You're wondering where platform nine-and-three-quarters is? Knew it." He steered his trolley so that it was facing the ticket box head on and grabbed her hand. "Come on, take your trolley." When she still did not react, he rolled his eyes and went to grab it himself. "Well, you're a slow one, aren't you?" He parked her trolley next to his and guided her over to it. "Okay, all you have to do is take a run at the barrier. You don't need to worry about crashing into it; you'll just go right through. Don't worry, you won't feel a thing. I'll let you go first to make sure you get through."

Sheila nodded dumbly and started toward the ticket box. The blonde boy grabbed her hand.

"Don't forget your trolley!"

He placed her hands on the trolley and she tried again. 

The blonde-haired boy had been right; she hadn't felt a thing. Her numb brain was beginning to register things again. She looked around and saw her train; now she just had to get on it.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" the blonde-haired boy asked as he appeared behind her.

"Thanks," Sheila mumbled.

He gave a little wave and headed off. Sheila boarded the train and began to wander about looking for a nice empty compartment to sit in. She found one at last and after depositing her bags safely under her seat, she settled down for the train ride. After a few minutes, she became aware of someone standing in the door of the compartment. They seemed to be trying to decide whether they should come in and sit down or not. At last, the figure made up his mind, seating himself in the seat across from her and putting his suitcase next to him.

The boy had jet-black hair and pale blue eyes. He sat staring out the window, saying nothing. Sheila wondered if she should say something. She wasn't usually a quiet girl but this boy seemed to have no interest in conversation.

Maybe he just needs to be broken out of his shell, she thought.

"Is this your first time at Hogwarts too?" she asked.

The boy turned his head to meet her gaze, his expression blank.

"Yes."

"Oh. Mine too!" Sheila said, smiling, "I've been pretty nervous about it. How are you coping? Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Sheila."

She extended her hand. The boy contemplated it for a moment before taking it.

"Tom. And I'm coping just fine."

"Good," Sheila said, and she laughed, "'Cause I'm not!"

Tom continued to regard her blankly, not saying anything. Then he turned his face back to the window. Sheila sank deeper into her cushioned seat. Well, the company wasn't great, but as she followed Tom's gaze out the window, she realized the scenery was.

At the end of the trip, they got off the train and all the first years were rounded up by an adult. After a boat-ride across a lake, they arrived at their final destination. The Hogwarts school was a breath-taking castle and as the first years filed indoors, Sheila found herself gawping at the interior in utter amazement. There were a few moments of standing around and waiting before they were called into a room where there were five tables around which many people were seated. One table was comprised entirely of adults while the other four had children of varying ages.

On one seat placed out in the open, there sat a funny looking hat. Sheila stared at it for a moment, stunned. It was singing. She didn't really hear the words; her heart was pounding. Her earlier nervousness and stress had all come rushing back. She had to take deep breaths to calm herself.

"When I call your name, you are to come forward and place the hat on your head. The hat will then sort you into your proper houses," an adult explained to the first years.

A mousy-haired girl was called forward and so the sorting began. Sheila watched, trying to calm her ferociously beating heart and waiting uneasily for her turn. 

Then she heard, "Riddle..." and she tried to muster enough courage to step forward and take her turn but the adult finished with the name "Tom!"

Sheila blinked. What? There had to be a mistake. Her name was Riddle...

She watched in pure shock as the same dark-haired boy who had sat across from her on the train emerged from the crowd of first years and placed the sorting hat on his head. She stared at him. It didn't make sense! Why did this boy share her last name?

"Slytherin!" the hat shouted and Tom got up and strode toward the Slytherin house table.

"Riddle, Sheila!"

Sheila continued to stare at Tom, her mouth slightly open. As soon as he had heard the name, his eyes had begun combing through the other first years, waiting for someone to step forward. Then his eyes came to rest on her.

"Riddle, Sheila!"

She jumped a little and scurried forward to put the hat on her head. Her gaze returned to Tom, who gazed back at her just as steadily.

"Put me in Slytherin," Sheila whispered.

"Oh, we have ourselves a clever one!" the hat said in her ear, taking no notice of her request, "You would do very well in Ravenclaw, I think."

"Slytherin, Slytherin," Sheila whispered frantically, "Put me in Slytherin."

The hat seemed to consider her for a moment. 

Then it yelled, "Slytherin!"

Sheila replaced the hat on the chair and felt an enormous rush of relief. She walked over to the Slytherin table and sat as far away from Tom as she possibly could. They were still gazing at each other unflinchingly. 

A torrent of questions were racing through Sheila's mind. But the most demanding one was...

Who are you, Tom Riddle?