The field smelled of morning dew and damp grass. First-year students stood lined up beside battered old brooms, the excitement thick in the air.
Flying class.
For many, this was the moment they had been waiting for.
Tom Riddle stood quietly near the edge of the group, eyes fixed on the broom at his feet. It looked unimpressive — twisted straw bristles and a warped handle — more like a broken stick than a magical object.
Still, the other students were grinning, whispering, elbowing each other.
"Everyone ready?" barked Madam Hooch, striding between the rows. Her silver hair was tied tight, her yellow eyes sharp as glass. "Feet beside your broom. Wand hand over it. On my count, say the word loud and clear."
A whistle shrieked.
"UP!"
Dozens of voices echoed hers.
Brooms leapt off the ground. Some shot into palms. Some wobbled mid-air. One smacked a Gryffindor in the nose.
Laughter followed.
James Potter's broom rocketed into his hand with a loud snap.
He twirled it once, smugly, and nudged Sirius with a grin. "Still got it."
Then he glanced across the field — and stopped.
Tom Riddle was standing still.
His hand outstretched.
His broom lay flat on the grass.
Unmoving.
James raised an eyebrow.
Tom tried again.
"Up," he said, low but clear.
Nothing.
Not even a tremble.
James smirked. "You've got to mean it, Riddle. Try saying 'please.'"
A few students chuckled. Even Sirius grinned.
Tom ignored him. He stared at the broom like it had personally insulted him.
Professor Hooch was moving down the line.
"Up," Tom said again — sharper now.
Still nothing.
James leaned toward Sirius, loud enough for half the field to hear. "Maybe he needs to hiss at it — you know, speak snake."
Laughter broke out across the group.
Tom's teeth clenched.
"Enough," Madam Hooch said without looking.
James raised his eyebrows in mock innocence. "What? I'm just helping."
"I said enough, Mr. Potter," she snapped, turning toward him now. "Five points from Gryffindor for your mouth."
The laughter died instantly.
James's smirk dropped.
Sirius muttered, "Ouch."
Tom didn't speak. He didn't move.
But his fingers curled slightly at his sides.
Madam Hooch stopped beside him. "Mr. Riddle."
"Yes, Professor."
"Try again."
Tom looked at the broom. He didn't want to try again. Not in front of all of them. Not with their eyes on him like daggers.
But he raised his hand.
"...Up."
Silence.
The broom didn't twitch.
Madam Hooch gave him a long, unreadable look. Then she said, "It happens. Flying comes easier to some than others. Practice in your own time."
And with that, she turned away and blew her whistle.
"Mount and rise! Only a hover — no dives unless you enjoy broken bones!"
The rest of the class kicked off — brooms wobbling upward as students laughed and shrieked through their first flight.
Tom remained on the ground.
Watching.
Burning.
And saying nothing.
Class ended few minutes later,
Tom didn't speak to anyone as he walked off the field.
He kept his eyes straight ahead, fists clenched in his robe pockets, boots crunching over gravel as he crossed the outer courtyard.
The cold air bit at his face, but he didn't feel it. He only felt the heat rising in his chest — the kind that couldn't be cast out by warming charms.
Why hadn't it worked?
Why wouldn't the broom listen?
He'd done everything right — voice clear, posture correct, focus intense.
And it still lay there like it knew him and refused him.
Like it could sense what he really was.
He stopped beneath the shadow of a stone archway and stared out across the Black Lake.
His reflection shimmered faintly on the surface of the water — a boy with too-sharp cheekbones, shadowed eyes, and a calmness that was never truly calm.
He hated this feeling.
Helplessness.
The same feeling he had when they took Mary Polly's body away. The same feeling when the nuns told him not to ask questions. The same feeling when the Sorting Hat paused too long before calling out Slytherin.
He wasn't used to being watched. Judged.
He was used to being in control.
He pulled out his notebook. The one he kept hidden beneath his mattress, protected by a soft locking charm.
He flipped it open to a blank page and wrote:
"They laugh when you fall. They mock what they don't understand. But they always stop laughing once you rise."
"The broom obeys the worthy. Maybe it didn't lift... because it knew I wanted more than just to hover."
He paused.
Then added:
"James Potter thinks he won today. He didn't."
"He reminded me I'm still learning — and that's the most dangerous version of me."
A breeze rustled the nearby trees. Tom looked up, and for a brief second, he thought he saw something coiled in the branches.
Not a snake.
A mark.
It faded before he could be sure.
He tucked the notebook away.
It was just after lunch, and most of the students were still scattered across the courtyard or heading back to their common rooms.
Tom wasn't interested in the noise.
He needed somewhere still.
He walked with purpose, robes swaying gently, until he reached the spiral staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower. There wouldn't be class for another few hours. The door was slightly ajar.
Quiet. Empty. Or so he thought.
He stepped inside.
And paused.
Lily Evans was already there.
She stood at the edge of the tower balcony, sunlight glinting off her hair, a sketchbook half-open in her hands. Her eyes weren't on the page though — they were on the sky.
Tom hesitated.
She turned.
They both froze.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Lily offered a small smile. "Didn't think anyone else came up here."
"I didn't either," Tom replied.
She moved aside slightly. "You can stay. I don't mind."
Tom crossed to the opposite edge, keeping a polite distance, but still drawn to the quiet — and to her presence.
They stood in silence for a few beats, the breeze soft and cool between them.
"Peaceful up here," Lily said, voice low. "You can't hear the bickering or shouting."
Tom nodded. "You can barely hear the castle breathe."
That made her glance at him — surprised by the poetic phrasing.
"I come here when I need space," she said. "It feels like the one place Hogwarts isn't watching."
Tom looked out over the grounds. "Everyone's watching. Just not always when it matters."
She tilted her head. "Like during flying class?"
Tom didn't respond.
"I didn't laugh," she added.
"I know."
"I don't think it was funny," she said. "Some people just think making others small makes them bigger."
He gave a small nod. "James Potter," he muttered.
She smiled faintly. "He means well. But he doesn't always know when to stop."
Tom didn't answer. He stared out at the horizon — the lake shining under sunlight, the trees bending gently in the wind.
"My sister doesn't stop either," Lily said suddenly. "Not with magic. She doesn't understand it. She doesn't want to."
Tom glanced sideways, curious.
"Petunia," Lily continued. "She used to be my best friend. Then I got my letter. And... it all changed."
Tom's voice was quiet. "She resents you."
"Yes."
He looked back at the sky. "I know what that feels like."
For a few moments, they were silent — two students from different houses, from different worlds, but oddly... in sync.
Then he asked, "Have you heard of the Gaunts?"
Lily nodded. "From class. Some ancient dark family. Why?"
"I think I'm related to them."
She didn't look frightened. Only intrigued.
"I don't know for sure," Tom said. "But something tells me I am. The name keeps appearing. The signs..."
"I'll help you," Lily said.
He blinked.
She met his eyes. "If you want to find out the truth — I'll help."
Tom was silent. Staring.
No one had ever said that to him before.
"No one should have to search for their name alone."
He didn't smile.
But something inside him softened.
"...Alright," he said.
And for the first time, he didn't feel completely alone.
There was a brief silence for some while, then Tom said
You draw?" he asked looking at her sketchbook.
"A little," Lily replied. "Just to think. It helps me figure things out."
Tom nodded. "That's... smart."
She looked at him, a little surprised.
He added, quieter this time, "I've noticed you don't try to be like the others."
"Like who?"
"The ones who follow James around. Or pretend not to notice things."
Lily laughed softly. "Trust me, I notice everything."
Tom's mouth twitched slightly. It was almost a smile.
"You're different," he said. "Not just because you didn't laugh. But because... you listen."
Lily's expression softened. "So are you."
Tom stiffened slightly. "So they keep saying."
"I don't mean like that." She looked at him. "You're quieter. You listen. You see things. Most people just... talk."
Tom studied her for a moment. "So do you."
She tilted her head. "Do I?"
"You watch people. But you don't judge them immediately."
Lily blushed faintly. "You pay a lot of attention for someone who says nothing."
Tom almost smiled. "You talk like you've been here for years."
She laughed softly. "I've only been here a few weeks. But it already feels like a second world."
She paused, then added, "At home... it wasn't like this."
He waited.
"My family's... normal," she said. "Ordinary. My parents don't know anything about magic. Neither does my sister."
Tom's eyes narrowed slightly. "They're Muggles?"
Lily nodded. "Yes. I'm the first witch in my family."
He said nothing.
She studied him carefully, probably expecting a reaction.
"I didn't ask to be," she added quickly. "But it's a part of me. And I won't hide it."
Tom looked away from her, staring out at the distant hills.
Finally, he said, "It makes you more interesting."
Lily blinked. "You mean that?"
He nodded. "Most people try to pretend they're part of something great. You don't. You just... are."
For a long moment, Lily didn't say anything. Then she whispered, "That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me here."
Tom said nothing in return.
But something in his expression changed — like a door inside him had shifted slightly ajar.
"What are you drawing?" Tom asked after a while.
"Constellations," Lily said, flipping the page to show a half-finished star map. "I'm not very good at it. I just like how small everything feels when I look up."
"That's why I come here too," Tom murmured.
She turned to him. "To feel small?"
"No. To feel like I'm not being watched."
That made her smile more thoughtfully.
"What's the deal with James and his crew anyway?" Tom said, breaking the kind of awkward moment
"You mean the marauders," Lily said,
"James, Sirus, Remus and Peter, those four became inseparable ever since they got sorted into Gryffindor" Lily denoted
"The marauders, that's the best name they could come up with" Tom said
"That's the least dumb thing you need to worry about" Lily said "Imagine being in the same common room with them" making a vague look
Silence bloomed for some moments,
Then they both burst out in laugher
After a while, Tom realized that he did not know why he opened up to lily in such way, Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was her eyes — not cold or cautious, just curious.
Night wrapped around the castle like a heavy curtain.
The Slytherin dormitory was quiet — lit only by the soft, eerie green glow of the lake pressing against the underwater windows.
In the bed across the room, Severus Snape was already asleep, his face barely visible beneath a curtain of greasy black hair. His breathing was slow, steady. Dreamless.
Tom sat upright, back against the stone headboard, wand held loosely in his left hand.
A faint beam of light glowed at the tip — just enough to illuminate the page.
The same notebook.
The one he never showed anyone.
He dipped the quill. Waited. And then:
She said she'd help me.
She didn't laugh.
She looked at me like I wasn't dangerous. Like I wasn't broken. Just... seen.
Lily Evans.
Too curious for her own good. Kind to a fault. She sees too much — and says too little.
That's dangerous.
That's rare.
I don't know why I told her anything. Maybe it was the quiet. Or the way her voice didn't flinch.
I'm not sure I trust her.
But I didn't want her to leave.
Strange.
No—
Important.
Tom stared at the final word.
Then quietly closed the book.
He glanced once toward Severus, who hadn't stirred. Then blew out the light.
The dark pressed in around him — but for once, it didn't feel as cold.
The next morning Tom rushed to the great hall,
The Great Hall looked different that morning.
The four House tables had vanished. In their place stood a long dueling platform raised down the center, surrounded by a ring of benches, enchanted to adjust for height and space. Warm torchlight flickered against the enchanted ceiling, which showed storm clouds slowly swirling — almost as if it sensed what was coming.
Professor Merrythought, standing at the edge of the platform, tapped her wand twice against the stone floor. It echoed louder than it should have.
"First years," she said, "welcome to Dueling Club."
The room fell quiet.
She let her gaze sweep across the gathered students.
"Some of you are here to learn. Some of you are here to show off. In addition, some of you, Merlin help us, are here to hurt each other. I advise you to find the line — and not to cross it."
She paused.
"You will be sorted into pairs. Spells are limited to standard charms, defensive magic, and simple disarms. No hexes, no blood, and no glory-hunting."
The class shifted with a murmur of anticipation.
Then — the cast assembled.
Tom Riddle stood toward the back, arms folded.
His face was unreadable, but his eyes missed nothing. He was not here to show off. He was here to observe, to measure, and — if needed — to dominate.
James Potter stood dead center, wand already in his hand, twirling it like a sword.
Confident. Charming. Born for the spotlight. He grinned as if the entire club existed for his entertainment.
Sirius Black, beside him, leaned with practiced arrogance, tie loose, posture perfect.
He tossed his hair like a curse breaker and grinned at a Slytherin across the room.
Remus Lupin sat on the bench nearest the wall, hands in his lap.
Quiet. Thoughtful. Watching everything. The only Marauder who did not need to talk to be present.
Peter Pettigrew hovered near James and Sirius, laughing too hard, nodding too quickly.
Eager. Anxious. Always a few seconds behind the mood of the room.
Lily Evans sat alone for now, sketchbook tucked away, wand balanced on her knee.
Sharp eyes, soft presence. She looked calm — but even Tom could see the light in her hand.
Severus Snape stood two students away from Tom, jaw tight.
He was already mumbling spell formulas under his breath, rehearsing. Not to win — but to prove something.
Lucius Malfoy leaned against the nearest pillar as if it belonged to him.
Slick. Superior. Calculating. Eyes half-lidded as if bored, but his wand hand was ready.
Bellatrix Black stood at the edge, smiling like a shark.
Her robes perfectly pressed her stare burning holes into Sirius across the room.
"Come on, cousin," she said under her breath, "let's see if that lion's spine is real."
Frank Longbottom stood by Lily, tall and quiet.
He nodded politely at Tom — the only Gryffindor who did. His eyes were honest. His stance was solid. Unshakable.
Other students milled in:
Emmeline Vance, fast-talking, clever, wand twitching with nervous energy.
Marlene McKinnon, tall, fierce, already sizing up James.
Rabastan Lestrange, pale and silent, trailing just behind Bellatrix like a shadow.
Dorcas Meadowes, composed and direct, whispering strategy to Frank.
Bertram Aubrey, twitchy Ravenclaw with a smug grin and a hex-happy twitch.
Barty Crouch Jr., quiet, intense, lurking in the far corner, eyes on Tom just a little too long.
Professor Merrythought raised her voice.
"Pairs will be chosen at random today. Tomorrow, you'll choose your own."
She flicked her wand — glowing names appeared in the air.
James Potter vs. TomRiddle
Sirius Black vs. Bellatrix Lestrange
Lily Evans vs. Lucius Malfoy
Severus Snape vs. Frank Longbottom
Marlene McKinnon vs. Barty Crouch Jr
Peter Pettigrew vs. Dorcas Meadowes
Remus Lupin vs. Emmeline Vance
Other names followed,
After the pairs were announced,
The hall buzzed with rising tension.
Bellatrix's smile sharpened. "Oh, cousin... don't blink."
Sirius tilted his head. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Bella."
Thoughts roamed through Toms head,
James shot a glare at Tom, "Well call this luck, dueling would be fun riddle"
Tom didn't blink. "Try not to miss."
Professor Merrythought clapped her hands once.
"Wands up. First pair — Potter and Riddle— to the platform. Let's begin."
The room stiffened.
Even some of the upper years turned in their seats.
James grinned like it was Christmas morning.
Tom stood slowly. He didn't smile. He didn't flinch. But inside, something tightened.
He didn't know many spells. But he knew how to fight. He knew how to read people. And he could learn.
James climbed the platform with swagger. Tom followed, quiet as smoke.
Professor Merrythought stepped between them, raising a hand.
"Disarming spells only. No jinxes, no taunts, and no flair magic. Wands at the ready."
The boys bowed — barely.
James looked amused.
Tom looked focused.
"Begin!"
James was fast.
"Expelliarmus!"
Tom barely raised a shield. The red spark grazed his robes.
He countered — not with power, but with speed.
"Protego!"
The shield snapped up again as another spell came crashing toward him.
James moved like a duelist, not a student. He was confident, clean, and too casual.
"Expelliarmus!" Tom shot back.
James blocked it easily.
"Is that all you've got?" he called.
Tom didn't answer. His lips barely moved as he muttered a basic knockback charm.
"Flipendo!"
It pushed James back a step — but he caught himself, grinning.
"Cute."
Then James twisted sharply, aimed low, and fired again.
"Expelliarmus!"
This time, Tom's shield flickered too late.
His wand shot from his hand, spinning across the floor.
Silence fell.
James lowered his wand, panting lightly.
Tom stood still, fists clenched — not from fear... but from frustration.
Professor Merrythought raised a hand.
"Winner: Potter."
Sirius whooped.
Peter clapped like it was a Quidditch final.
Remus gave a small, respectful nod.
Lily didn't move.
She just watched as Tom stepped down from the platform — face unreadable, but eyes quietly burning.
All Tom could think was:
He wasn't stronger. He was faster. More experienced.
That's all.
Next time... I won't lose because I don't know enough.
I'll lose only once.
The stage is set perfectly after the Tom vs. James duel. The room is tense. Some students are still buzzing, some are watching silently. Now it's time for the most explosive match of the day:
Sirius Black vs. Bellatrix Black.
Blood relatives.
Opposite houses.
Opposite values.
As Tom stepped down from the platform, he passed Sirius on his way up.
Sirius gave him a half-grin. "Not bad, Riddle. You made James sweat."
Tom didn't reply.
But Bellatrix — standing tall at the opposite end of the hall — raised her voice just loud enough for the room to hear:
"So the heir of Slytherin can't even hold his wand straight."
A few Slytherins snickered.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Save it for the duel, Bella."
Bellatrix walked up to the platform like it was her throne. Her robes didn't move in the breeze, but her presence alone seemed to make the torches flicker darker.
Sirius climbed the other side with a smirk and a dramatic bow to the crowd.
"Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Black versus Black," he said loudly.
"Whoever loses gets disowned."
A few students laughed — nervously.
Professor Merrythought didn't.
"This is a duel, not a family feud," she warned. "Disarming spells only. Nothing else. Understood?"
Neither Black nodded.
They just raised their wands.
And smiled.
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