Narrator's POV
Marvolo woke up an hour later, his right eye its normal blue and his right eye blood red.
The very first thing he saw once he woke up was Harry's wand, being held by Tom, in his face.
Marvolo sighed, glad Harry was ok.
"It's me, Tom, Voldemort's dead." Marvolo said
"Swear on your magic." Tom said, not believing it
Marvolo did so, "I swear on my magic that I am Marvolo and not Voldemort, so I swear it so mote be it."
Once Marvolo swore it, Tom helped him up, things were good now.
***
On September 1, 2010, Platform 9 3/4s was crowded with students and their parents.
"Good luck on your sorting, Zen." Harry told his eleven year old son while Colette clung to her mummy's waist
"Thanks, mum. I hope I'm in Gryffindor." Zenith thanked, he had always been a courageous little thing
"Well, it suits you well, baby." Harry replied
"Can I have some sweets money, papa?" Ambrose, a now third year Slytherin, asked Marvolo
"Yes," Marvolo said, handing over the money "share it with your sister and you brother."
"I will, thanks, papa." Ambrose thanked, putting the money in his pocket
"Are you going to rejoin the Qudditch team this year, Amby?" Odette asked, only nine years old, and still clinging to her papa's side
"I'll be Seeker again as long as I make try-outs." Ambrose replied, his broom strapped on his back
Zenith followed his older siblings into the train and found their usual compartment, which he knew was same one his mum and papa with their early Inner Circle used.
Within a few minutes, people greeted each other, the conductor called out for students to begin to board the train.
"Remembers to write to me and papaand dad." Harry reminded his children
"I will, Dad's made me swear to write him weekly." Zenith said, sticking her head out the window
"You bet I did, Zen, I expect to see your owl tonight telling me all about your sorting." Tom called out
"You will, dad, and I know Amb will write to you about him making the Qudditch team again." Zenith replied, rolling his eyes
"I will make the team, Zenny, McLaggen has already promised me the spot, he says Slytherin hasn't had a finer Seeker.." Ambrose said, sticking his head out of the window as well
"Will you both shut up? You're both idiots." Willow, a fifth year Slytherin, replied, sick of her younger brothers fighting
"Of course you will, baby, you have Qudditch genes inside of you. I don't care what your papa or dad says, Qudditch is the best sport. I'll be cheering for you at your match." Harry called out, as the train drove away
"How much do you want to bet Zenith is going to be a Gryffindor?" Marvolo asked Harry
"Date night says he will." Harry smiled, running his fingers through Colette's untamable curly black hair, then adding, "Just like these little ones are Hufflepuff's"
***
Once they had arrived in the school, the older children took their seats at their respective tables, and the first years stood to be sorted.
But first the hat needed to sing.
"A thousand years or more ago when I was newly sewn, there lived four wizards of renown, whose names are still well known: bold Gryffindor, from wild moor; fair Ravenclaw, from glen; sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad; and cunning Slytherin, from fen. They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, they hatched a daring plan: to educate young sorcerers thus, Hogwarts School began. Now each of these four founders formed their own house, for each did value different virtues in the ones they had to teach. By Gryffindor, the bravest were prized far beyond the rest; for Ravenclaw, the cleverest would always be the best; for Hufflepuff, hard workers were most worthy of admission; and resourceful Slytherin, loved those of great ambition. While still alive they did divide their favorites from the throng, yet how to pick the worthy ones, when they were dead and gone? Twas Gryffindor who found the way, he whipped me off his head. The founders put some brains in me so, I could choose instead! Now slip me snug about your ears, I've never yet been wrong, I'll have a look inside your mind, and tell where you belong!" The Sorting Hat sang
Many names were called out before the letter 'R' was called out and when the name "Zenith Riddle" was called out by Deputy Headmaster Severus Snape, the brunette boy walked up the few steps to the stool in front of Headmistress McGonagall's chair and Professor Snape set the hat on his head.
No one who knew the boy was surprised when the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"
And more names were called and in the end, the feast began, marking the beginning of another great year.
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