Wuthering Heights

Tom sat by the window of his compartment of Hogwarts Express. He had it open as Harry Potter stood right outside of it. His belongings were taken care of, and Harry Potter gave Tom some money to spend on the trolley. Tom pretended to take it reluctantly but truth be told, like any eleven-year-old boy (10 if you take account of Tom's late birthday), he also wanted treats. Especially for his first time on the Express. He didn't have any friends to take some candy from back then, either.

"Make sure to have some of the money leftover to buy more treats on your way back home at the end of the year." Harry Potter said, grinning. "Oh, and I put some extra owl treats in your trunk. There's not a lot, so give it to Jeanne only if she's been on good behaviour. Or you can send her to me to give her treats. She needs to start memorizing the route from my location to Hogwarts anyway."

"How do you even have this money anyway? Don't you work at a muggle store?" Tom has recently grown accustomed to replying back to Harry Potter more comfortably. He felt like he was being treated too well for a charity case.

Harry Potter only winked. "I have my ways."

Tom had fresh new clothes and a set of jammies to wear folded neatly in his trunk. He never had new clothes before, so he packed his old ones with him just in case as well. 

"Oh, hey Tom!" said a boy's voice at the back. Tom turned around to only sigh. It was Avery.

During final exams last year, Tom was the only one who helped Avery with a charms spell he's been struggling with all year. All the other Slytherin students were so engrossed in keeping his own secrets and strengths hidden away so that they had a higher likelihood of success, even though Avery was openly asking for help. Which was odd, knowing that Avery was a Slytherin too. Yet he was the most open. Tom saw him beside a Gryffindor student once and wondered why he wasn't sorted there instead.

The Hogwarts Express was about to leave and both Harry and Avery saw a glimpse of each other.

"Well, have fun with your friends, Tom! See you back during Christmas!"

Did he say Christmas?

"Who was that?" asked Avery, welcoming himself in to the compartment without even asking. Tom only shifted slightly.

"Uhm…my guardian?."

"Guardian?"

"Er…" Tom bubbled his mind for ideas. "Yeah. He's taking care of me while my parents are working overseas for like... magic stuff."

"Cool! Do you know what they do?"

Tom shook his head.

"That's fine. I don't know what my parents do either. And Mulciber—you don't know him yet—his parents are working overseas all the time. He doesn't know what they do either. So how was summer break?"

"Nothing much. My... um... guardian...showed me what a patronus is."

"Whoa! Isn't that like, 7th year Defence the Dark Arts stuff? I read about that in my brother's textbook!"

Tom had absolutely no idea, but he was intrigued.

Avery flopped back into his seat. "My mom just made me practice piano all summer."

"Anything on the trolley, boys?" asked the trolley lady pushing her cart through.

Avery shook his head. "My parents didn't give me any money. Said it's bad for my health or whatever."

"Wait." Tom took out a small sack. "I have a few sickles."

"What!! Mulciber is in another compartment with his sister; I have to get him in here!" Avery jumped up from his seat while Tom looked at the candy options. Today he felt good.

***

Throughout his first year, getting adjusted, Tom spent his days in the library, doing his homework, reading up on the world's history and ahead. As he looked at his timetable, which was pretty much the same as last year (charms, transfiguration, history of magic, defence against the dark arts, astronomy and herbology), he sneaked short glances at the third years and above around him who had classes like arithmancy, ancient runes, muggle studies, and a bunch more that he couldn't stare at long enough to be able to read. These were probably electives, as it was explained at the corner of his timetable; all second-year students are to talk to the head of their house in preparation for choosing their three electives starting from third year and ending in fifth year by the end of the third term.

Tom liked planning ahead. Even if those plans changed eventually, he liked to have a solid ground on what to expect so he could know what to prepare for. He logged in the back of his mind to check out the electives early so he could ask the older years and get a general idea of what it’s like.

If things worked out in Tom’s favour, he would like to do them all, but that could be discussed at another time. For now, research was at the top of his mind.

His senses came back to reality when Avery bumped shoulders with him.

“Aw, we don’t have charms together. I was just telling Mulciber about how great you were last year.”

Tom clenched his fist. Why was Avery randomly so buddy-buddy with him? He took a deep breath and smiled.

“I know! A bummer.” Tom watched Mulciber sheepishly walk towards him. The entire way to Hogwarts, all three of them chatted in the compartment. Tom, although he wanted to be left alone with his books, just let it all happen, acting all friendly.

Although it wouldn’t be just anybody Tom would be nice to, he knew that Avery was a pureblood. Which was good. He eventually found out on the express that Avery and Mulciber have been childhood friends, and it was safe to bet that Mulciber was a pureblood as well. But Tom couldn’t give any guarantee until he got his hands on some more research. Tom was a pureblood; he was sure of it. It was only reasonable that he surrounded himself with peers that are alike.

Harry Potter is a halfblood

We are not related. He does not care for me. I am using him.

Wuthering Heights sat in his trunk on his traverse to Hogwarts. The book sat in the back of his mind.

***

Tom Riddle has been busy.

He was scuttling back and forth, putting on a braver face than last year. He guided the first years who were too scared to talk to the older kids, asked questions in class and graciously thanked the teachers in an almost teacher’s pet way, making the teachers laugh in pride. He used his cute boyishness to win over the older girls by acting shy and woahed and wowed at the older boy’s ability to cast charms nonverbally.

He was also in the library often. No one in all of wizarding history has consumed more history of magic than Tom did.

Famous pureblood families... Malfoys, Gaunts, Averys, Blacks… Tom muttered the name ‘Riddle’ under his breath yet was unable to find any.

The purebloods around him seemed to be renowned families all written in history textbooks, especially those that described blood purity culture, and a continued hatred for ‘blood traitors’ (Tom has decided: Harry Potter comes from a blood traitor. all the more reason for Tom to be emotionally distant from him).

“Trophy rooms.” Avery once told him. “My dad’s name is up there. Most pureblood families do. Although I don’t recall a Riddle...

Tom checks every corner available in the Trophy room, looking for his father’s name.

No—he found something more interesting.

Henry Potter.

"Oh, Potter is a pureblood family, yeah?” Mulciber said in the Great Hall. It was a Sunday morning and Tom had spent the entire day yesterday glued to books. Avery nearly dragged Tom out for breakfast, (much to Tom’s dismay. If he knew a dangerous spell to torture anyone who bothered him, he would’ve surely used it.)

“Don’t think Potter is in the sacred twenty-eight. Could apply for Riddle, too.”

Tom sighed. He’s read about the sacred twenty-eight. Twenty-eight pureblood families with no guarantee of muggle ancestry. He’s read the entire book of purebloods cover to cover at least 4 times already and the name Riddle was yet to be shown.

“Dunno why Potter caught your interest. C’mon! We have a Malfoy and a Black in our year! Let’s hang out with them! My parents work with Malfoy’s. I think.” Avery glanced down at Abraxas Malfoy and Alphard Black walk into the Great Hall. Neither of them seemed familiar with the other. Great. More work to do.

“Potter is just the surname of my guardian. So I was just curious.” Tom sank back into his seat as his friends watched him.

“Your guardian is Fleamont Potter?! ” Mulciber gasped. “His potion is the only reason my hair can stay still. I’m the only one with curls in my family and none of them know how to tame it.”

“What? No? My guardian is Harry Potter." Tom spat out. “And what hair potion?”

“Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion! It’s like the one potion for crazy hair.” Mulciber said, taking out a bottle. “My hair gets really bushy so I just carry one around me just in case.”

Tom inspected the bottle but gave it back to Mulciber. "No idea. It might be a different Potter."

"Potter is quite a common muggle name." One of the boys near them, Arthur Jones, piped in. "Jones is a muggle name too."

"Then stay away from us, mudblood, " Avery sneered. His sudden friendliness turned hostility slightly surprised Tom, but he stayed quiet. After all, they were both purebloods. What harm could this bring to him?

Arthur sank back into his spot at the table and Avery huffed. "Serves him right. Can't believe they let one of those muggle-borns into Slytherin. My pops always say they're here to taint all the good genes. If they keep this up, we're going to die out soon."

Hm. Tom only went back to focus on his breakfast. "Mudblood…"

"Oh look! The weekly mail is here!" Mulciber pointed up as a bunch of owls started gliding in. His mouth was half full with sausages.

A small package fell onto Avery's desk.

"Oh, my stuff arrived."

Tom watched wistfully as Avery unwrapped the package to find it full of small books of music sheets and a short letter written curtly: Do your piano studies. We expect progress by Christmas. and a travel-sized magical piano. Tom was a little jealous earlier, but he wasn't anymore.

Avery groaned. "I hate it here."

"Aren't pianos, like, a muggle thing?" Mulciber asked, peering over Avery's sheet music.

"Yeah but none of my parents believe it. They think it's some sophisticated pureblood thing that every family of the sacred twenty-eight should do. Honestly, I'd rather they didn't find out. If my mum realizes that it's a muggle activity they've been forcing me to do since I was four, I think she'll cut all my fingers off."

Tom watched as the numbers of owls started to dwindle and stared back at his own plate. He was almost done.

"I'm going to head out to the library–"

smack

Something gently fell on top of Tom Riddle's head. It slipped off and onto his lap. A letter.

Tom looked back up. Jeanne just dropped a letter from Harry Potter.

She set herself down on the dining hall table as Avery and Mulciber stared at her in awe.

"I don't have an owl yet! Wow, he looks—ouch, it nipped me!" Avery cringed as he rubbed his hand.

"Jeanne's a girl. Dunno. She picks up on stuff like that all the time. Be careful." Tom flipped over the envelope and opened the clumsily pressed wax seal.

Dear Tom,

How were your first two weeks back at Hogwarts? Sorry I couldn't send a letter earlier; I picked up a new job (that isn't a muggles!) And things got busy. The muggle bank got suspicious that I always somehow had large sums of money to store, so I started looking into converting wizarding money into muggle money at Gringotts as well; it's been quite hectic.

Jeanne was visiting me nearly every night—it was like she was expecting me to give her a letter to deliver, so I didn't forget about you, don't worry. She’s very smart.

Anyhow, I hope you're settled in properly. Let me know if we missed any amenities. I know Hogwarts is too old-fashioned to really catch up with the current world; send me a letter back and I'll try to reply back with everything else you may need.

Hope to see you soon,

'Mister' Harry Potter

It was written in clumsy print, the type of lettering the orphans at Wool's would have. Tom read the letter again, then again, then again. He probably read it six times total before calmly putting the letter back into its envelope and then into his pocket. He felt so, so warm on the inside.

Tom shook his head. No, no. That wasn't it. The candles were just unnecessaryly hot. He stood up from his seat.

"I'll go put my letter away and then I'll be at the library if you need me." Tom walked off. No second year other than him was willingly spending time in the library.

***

Tom prided himself as a fast reader. He was a bit ashamed to see how little he had progressed in his book, so he managed to open it back up again, large books about family heritage, blood ancestry and ancient runes stacked beside him as Tom fell deep into an armchair.

‘Where is Miss Catherine?’ I cried hurriedly.‘No accident, I hope?’

‘At Thrushcross Grange,’ he answered; ‘and I would have been there too, but they had not the manners to ask me to stay.’

‘Well, you will catch it!’ I said: ‘you’ll never be content till you’re sent about your business. What in the world led you wandering to Thrushcross Grange?’

‘Let me get off my wet clothes, and I’ll tell you all about it, Nelly.’ he replied. I bid him beware of rousing the master, and while he undressed and I waited to put out the candle, he continued…

Tom furrowed his brows. It was still early on a Sunday, and he had all the time of the day, but he suddenly felt at a loss of a desire to read it.

‘But who is this? Where did she pick up this companion? Oho! I declare he is that strange acquisition my late neighbour made in his journey to Liverpool—a little Lascar, or an American or Spanish castaway.’

‘A wicked boy, at all events,’ remarked the old lady, ‘and quite unfit. for a decent house! Did you notice his language, Linton? I’m shocked that my children should have heard it.’

Tom’s finger lightly glazed over the pages. Catherine, bitten by a dog, was taken in by Thrushcross Grange. They saw Heathcliff, a man so different from them, and ostracized him. 

Heathcliff was adopted, not loved, and hated for the favouritism by his stepbrother Hindley, and Catherine's position in society made her far more important than him. Even their friendship probably won't go too far.

Tom felt bored. Everyone was so unlikable other than Heathcliff.

He tossed Wuthering Heights to the side and opened up a blood heritage textbook. Dusty, old and large, Tom sneezed before flipping the thick page—

Hogwarts was found by four very special people: Helga Hufflepuf, Salazar Slytherin. Goodrich Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw. This is the reason why the Hogwarts houses are named after so. Each founder was respectably powerful and renowned.

Tom’s thumb gripped tightly on the name Salazar Slytherin, the founder of his house. He skipped the other pages and immediately went to Slytherin’s section.

Tom could remember his sorting day as clearly as any other. No one knew the name Riddle, so they all assumed he was muggle-born.

“Slytherin!” The hat shouted, without it even being properly placed on Tom’s head. There was not even the slightest tinge of consideration as Tom awkwardly walked his way to the table.

“Is he a pureblood? The sorting hat didn’t even pause.” Someone whispered as Tom went past them. He didn’t understand any of the terminology. He only knew of the world ‘muggle’ and ‘magic.’

“Dunno. Never heard of the name Riddle. Oh, look, a Malfoy. Now that’s a name I can reckon with.”

When the feast began, Tom sat amazed at the glory of everything. This place was nothing like he'd ever imagined before. He saw some of the other first-year students his age look dazzled as well.

“Pst. You a mudblood?” Someone asked, bumping shoulders with Tom.

“What?”

“Do ya come from muggle parents or not?”

“No? Both of my parents are magic.”

“Oh. Cool. I’m Weston Avery.”

Tom actually had nothing to back up his claim. But he shook Avery’s hand anyway. “I’m Tom Riddle.”

Tom frowned. He thought it was odd how Avery, despite his claims of hating muggle-borns and spitting the word 'mudblood’ everywhere, was the only one who talked to Tom that day, everyone else suspecting him of being from muggle parents.

“Dunno. I wasn’t going to talk to you if you were a mudblood, though.” Avery said, a week after sorting when Tom asked.

Tom’s eyes glazed over the description of Salazar Slytherin. Believed of purebloods...caused permanent rift... Tom only paused when it started talking about Slytherin’s ancestors.

The Gaunt family are the only living descendants of Salazar Slytherin. They, like our dear founder, can all speak Parseltongue. It is the ability to speak to snakes, a skill passed down completely hereditary. They were incredibly proud of their lineage and have been part of the sacred twenty-eight.

Tom had been separately researching all famous pureblood families with the pattern of their members all joining Slytherin. He’s looked into families like the Ollivanders and Weaselys, but considering their Gryffindor history, Tom shrugged it off. He planned on going back to them if he met a dead end. He’s also heard of a Weasley placed in Gryffindor already anyway, and if his suspicions that it was the boy with red hair with freckles all over his face were correct, there was no way Tom and him could be related.

Hours passed and Tom must've read at least 2 textbooks at this point. He stretched his arms out and stood up to put the books away.

By the time Tom reached his dorm, he realized he left Wuthering Heights still in the library.

"Hi…Tom!" said Mulciber sheepishly. "Avery is about to come down for dinner. Do you want to join us?"

Tom forced a smile. "I'd love to, but I left a book in the library. Go on without me; I'll meet you guys in the Great Hall."

He swiftly turned around and walked back into the library. 

It wouldn't be a lie to say Tom Riddle liked magic. He liked Hogwarts; he liked everything around here. But everything was so busy. Books were floating around and Tom suspected that his own book must've been enchanted by the librarian when he left.

It shouldn't have left too far. Tom turned his head left and right until he caught sight of the spine of Wuthering Heights before going to reach for it.

Tom already had quite the distaste that his feet never fully touched the ground when he sat down in one of the adult chairs. He felt himself get a little frustrated when he was just an inch away from the book, but it was floating too high. For a book that wasn't apart of the Hogwarts, it clearly had no shelve to go into and just stayed there, floating.

Soon, Tom watched a hand grab the book for him.

"Isn't this a muggle book?" said the older boy, whom Tom had remembered was Alfred Rosier, another boy in his year. "What's a so-called pureblood doing reading that?"

During the first week of Tom's first year at Hogwarts, all of Slytherin seemed to have formed their own sort of clique, leaving out all the muggle-borns, including Tom, who was a pureblood.

"But Tom's not a muggle; he said so!" Avery argued before his sixth-year sister shushed him away.

"How do you know that? Tch." Rosier said before turning his back. Tom watched Avery stick his tongue out behind him.

"I am a pureblood." Tom said, hotly. To think back on it now, he wishes he kept his cool.

Although Tom kept this memory buried at the back of his mind, he couldn't forget how he got so angry; his magic manifested without a wand and vexed Rosier with an unknown spell. It took him a week to figure out what the purple spots on his skin were and another to recover. Clearly, Rosier was out for trouble. Tom didn't even face any consequences because he claimed it was an accident.

"It's none of your concern. I'd like my book, please."

"I don't know. You're clearly not tall enough to reach. Who says I should give it to you?"

Tom clenched his fists. "You don't even care about the book."

"I care that it's a muggle book. It's because you're a muggle yourself, isn't it?"

Tom felt a wave of emotions burst inside of him, but he took a deep breath and stared up at Rosier. "I'm not a mudblood. I'd like my book back, please. "

Rosier's arm loosened and Tom simply reached up to grab it away. Rosier looked intimidated but that didn't say anything about how he actually felt. Tom just decided to just ignore it.

"Thanks."

"Err…okay."

Book tucked in his arm, Tom went down for dinner.

"What took you so long? I saved a drumstick for you."

Tom loosely smiled at Avery. "Thank you." At this point, Avery was the only one who was nice to him, and Mulciber just followed Avery around.

"Tomorrow, I dibs on sitting beside Tom during potions." Avery declared before being tackled with a "Hey!" from Mulciber.

Tom just stared down at his plate. Mr. Harry Potter told me to make friends anyway.

Wait.

Why did he think about what Harry Potter told him?

Why would it matter?

Tom shook his head.