London was grey that morning, as if the sky itself hesitated to let go of summer.
A cold breeze swept through King's Cross Station, tugging at the edges of Tom Riddle's thin coat.
He walked alone, weaving through rushing crowds, dragging a secondhand trunk that squeaked at every bump on the floor.
In his pocket, the train ticket fluttered with each step: "Platform 9¾ - Hogwarts Express - 11:00 AM".
Tom stared up at the towering signs between platforms 9 and 10.
They were perfectly normal. Just numbers. Steel. Brick. Trains. Steam. Nothing magical.
But magic was rarely where it seemed.
He slowed his pace and watched.
A woman pushing a trolley with an owl in a cage casually walked toward the barrier between platforms - and vanished right through it.
Tom blinked.
That is it. Taking a breath, he pressed forward.
His heartbeat thudded in his chest. As he neared the wall, he half-expected to smash into it.
But instead- The world twisted. A rush of warm air enveloped him, and the murmur of the station fell behind like fading static.
A red steam engine, proud and gleaming, hissed on the tracks before him.
A large wrought-iron sign read: HOGWARTS EXPRESS, 11 O'CLOCK.
Families bustled everywhere - parents hugging children, owls hooting from cages, trunks levitating in mid-air.
It was loud. Alive. And not a single soul noticed the green-eyed boy standing alone.
Tom gripped the handle of his trunk tighter and walked along the train.
He was no one here. Just a name on parchment.
A whisper in a crowd. The train's corridors were packed with laughing children.
As Tom searched for an empty compartment, he passed students chattering excitedly about spells, brooms, and Quidditch - words that still meant little to him.
He finally found a compartment with no one inside.
He slid the door shut behind him and stared out the window.
Steam curled past the glass as the train let out a shriek.
Then, it moved. Tom's fingers hovered over the wand hidden inside his coat. His wand. The only thing so far that felt like it belonged to him.
The memory of the way it sang in his hand still lingered.
"Can I sit here?" a white-haired boy asked, pausing at the compartment door.
His voice was calm, practiced - but his eyes faltered for a moment. Tom looked up from the window.
"Yes. Please do." The boy stepped inside, carefully setting down his trunk and wand box.
He wore finely cut robes, clearly new, and his posture was unnaturally polished - as if taught, not lived.
Then he saw Tom's face fully - and his eyes. Lucius froze. For a split second, the poised boy with the silver tongue forgot himself.
"Your eyes," he said, blinking once. "They're... green."
Tom's face did not move.
"They've always been like this." he said.
Lucius quickly composed himself, straightening his cuffs. "Unusual. Rare, even.
Not many have eyes like that. You don't forget them." He sat down across from Tom, though he kept glancing back - as if trying to solve something he had not expected.
"I'm Lucius Malfoy," he finally said, breaking the silence. "Pure-blood. You?"
"Tom Riddle."
Lucius tilted his head slightly.
"Riddle... not a name I've heard in wizarding circles. Muggleborn?"
Tom did not flinch. "I don't know. I grew up in an orphanage."
Lucius blinked again - slowly. "Interesting." He said it like someone making a note for later.
"I assume this is your first time hearing about the Houses, then?" he added.
"Houses?".
Lucius gave a cool smile, happy to educate.
"Hogwarts is divided into four. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff.
It's... important where you're sorted."
He leaned in slightly, his voice taking on a confident lilt.
"Slytherin is for the ambitious. The clever. The ones who know how to get things done.
My whole family has been in Slytherin for generations. It is where I will go. No question."
Tom nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "And the others?"
"Gryffindor's for those who think being brave is a personality. Loud and reckless.
Ravenclaws are the bookish ones.
Hufflepuff's..." He shrugged. "For the leftovers."
Tom smirked faintly. "And you think I'd fit in Slytherin?".
Lucius's eyes narrowed again, lingering once more on Tom's green eyes - eyes that, for all their brightness, seemed to hold shadows.
"I think," Lucius said slowly, "the Sorting Hat will know exactly where to put you."
Tom said nothing. However, a small, quiet part of him liked that answer.
Lucius adjusted his sleeve and leaned back, clearly warming to his own voice.
"My family has always been respected in the wizarding world," he said, almost dreamily.
"The Malfoys go back generations - pure-blooded, of course. Landowners, diplomats, enchanters, even dueling champions.
My father says we've had influence at the Ministry since before the Ministry even existed."
Tom watched him quietly, hands folded in his lap.
"I've already learned spells most first-years haven't even heard of," Lucius continued, his tone slipping toward smug.
"Simple things, mostly - light charms, disarming, locking and unlocking spells.
I bet the Muggle-borns don't even know which end of a wand to hold." He glanced at Tom, clearly fishing for agreement.
Tom said nothing. His face was unreadable, but Lucius seemed to take his silence as interest.
"Don't worry," he said with a smirk. "Once we're in Slytherin, you'll learn quickly. You seem... observant."
Tom's eyes drifted to the window.
Outside, the green hills rolled under grey skies.
He had not said a word about magic, wands, or spells. He did not know how much he was supposed to know - or how much it was safe to reveal that he did not.
Then, the compartment door slid open.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?" came the cheerful voice of the trolley witch.
Lucius stood and reached for his robes. "I'll just grab a few-".
However, Tom was already on his feet. He stepped forward, drawing out the small velvet pouch Dumbledore had told him to use.
He looked over the trolley for a second, and then said simply: "I'll take everything."
The trolley witch blinked. "Everything?" .
Tom gave a small nod. Without hesitation, he placed several gold coins into her hand - Galleons, though he still did not quite know what they were worth.
He just knew the pouch had more. Enough.
The trolley witch smiled with mild astonishment and began emptying the cart into their compartment - pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, licorice wands, every flavored beans, and more.
The seat beside Tom was quickly buried in sweets.
Lucius was speechless. He stood there, a handful of silver in one hand, watching as Tom sat back down and calmly peeled open a chocolate frog.
Lucius finally cleared his throat. "You said you were from an orphanage."
Tom did not answer.
Lucius sat slowly, staring at the mountain of sweets between them.
He gave a small, confused chuckle. "Right. Well... enjoy."
Tom did not look at him. He did not need to.
For the first time since they met, Lucius Malfoy had nothing to say.
After a few minutes, Lucius stirred again. His voice had lost some of its usual arrogance, replaced by something else-curiosity.
"So... what do you know about magic?" he asked, more cautiously this time.
"Did anyone teach you anything before now?" Tom glanced at him.
The truth was simple. "No," he said quietly. "I don't really know much. I'm only just learning all of this."
Lucius blinked, visibly thrown off. "Really? Then how did you get into Hogwarts?".
Tom hesitated. His fingers traced the edge of a chocolate frog wrapper.
He did not know what to say, because he did not really know the answer himself.
He had no memories of lessons, of magical parents, or of the wizarding world.
"I... don't know," he admitted. "A professor came. He told me I was different. That I belonged there."
Lucius leaned back, frowning slightly, as if processing something he could not quite make sense of.
Tom looked out the window again. The silence returned, but this time, it was heavier. Not cold. Not dismissive. Just uncertain.
The train began to slow, the rhythm of the wheels gradually softening as lights flickered into view beyond the foggy glass.
Lucius stood and adjusted his robes, his tone composed once more. "We're here."
Tom followed him into the corridor.
Students were already crowding the narrow walkway, pulling down trunks, adjusting cloaks, and murmuring excitedly as the train crawled to a stop.
Steam hissed as the doors opened and the cool night air rushed in.
Tom stepped down onto the platform, his shoes clicking softly against the stone.
All around him were wide-eyed first-years, and beyond them, the looming outline of a dense, dark forest.
A commanding voice called out, firm and clear:
"First years to me! No stragglers. Let's keep it in good order."
A tall man stood at the edge of the platform, holding a brass lantern.
He wore a dark overcoat with a leather belt across the chest, and his silver beard was neatly trimmed to his chin.
His eyes were sharp, watchful, and he spoke like someone used to being obeyed.
"Name's Bramwick," he said. "I'm the groundskeeper. I'll be escorting you to the castle. Stay together and mind your step."
Tom moved toward him with the rest of the crowd, heart pounding. The castle-he could feel it close. The magic. The weight of it.
Bramwick led the students down a winding dirt path toward the edge of a vast, black lake.
Dozens of small boats bobbed gently in the water, their reflections trembling beneath the moonlight. "Four to a boat," Bramwick instructed. "No more, no less."
Tom climbed into one, Lucius following silently behind. Two other students joined them, quiet and nervous.
Bramwick raised his lantern once. "Let them go."
The boats moved on their own, gliding smoothly over the water.
Tom looked ahead. And there it was. Hogwarts Castle. Towering against the night sky, glowing with scattered lights.
It looked like something torn from a forgotten dream-ancient, untouchable.
Lucius stared too, but Tom did not notice.
His eyes were locked on the castle. On the future.
And something deep inside him whispered: This is where it begins.
NESSGEEORIGINAL