Wuthering Heights

"Professor Slughorn?" Tom mumbled, slightly opening the door after a knock.

"Ah, yes! Young boy, come in, come in."

Professor Slughorn had been made the head of Slytherin this year, and Tom had been a little frustrated as he was only nice to Hogwarts students, regardless of house, that had a name for themselves or seemed very 'promising.' This meant he had quite literally no interest in Tom at all other than for teacher-student advice and the often glance whenever Avery or Mulciber followed Tom around. He patted himself quietly on the back for looking like a leader. Avery loved hanging out with Tom, and Mulciber did anything Avery did. (Tom also quite excelled in academics, but this was only his second year at Hogwarts).

Slughorn was obsessed with getting on Avery's older sister's—Julia Avery—good side. She was quiet and did not talk all that much and seemed quite avoidant of a lot of professors. But she was pretty, popular (amongst boys, Tom had noticed. Even though she seemed to desire none of it) and smart. She was also an Avery, a sacred twenty-eight, a pureblood and most importantly, rich.

For everyone, Tom had a muggle last name. He didn't talk to a lot of people.

"I wanted to talk about my electives, sir." Tom said, clutching a transfiguration textbook close to his chest. "I wanted to ask you before lunch."

"Ah, but my boy, October started only yesterday!"

Tom shook his head. "It's a complex I have, sir. I need to know early on."

Slughorn let out an old man's hearty laugh. "Alright. What is it you need to know?"

"I want to know the electives available for next year and if I am only allowed to take 3."

"Well for that..." Slughorn hunched down and pulled out a pile of books from his desk. "Here are the electives. You're the only one who gets to know so early on, boy."

Tom quietly sneered at being called 'boy' but brushed it off.

Arithmacy, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, Study of Ancient Runes, and Magical Languages

All of them seemed equally interesting.

"And yes, you can only take three."

Tom frowned. "Is there no other way? I'd like to take all of them if I could."

"Then your classes would overlap and you would have no eating or studying time at all! Then what would be the point?" Slughorn laughed again, but it made Tom feel bad this time.

"Can I have this paper to keep?" Tom asked, pointing at the elective application paper. Slughorn waved his hand. "Go ahead."

"Thank you for your time, sir. I'll see you in potions."

Tucking the paper gently between the pages of his textbooks, he went to the Great Hall for lunch.

As Tom flopped down in his seat, Avery gave him a glance but rolled his eyes. "Who the hell wants to take all six electives? crazy."

Tom shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

Tom watched from the corner of his eye. Mulciber and Rosier huddled together, talking about something.

"What's up with that?" Tom passed a whisper as Avery leaned in.

"Oh, Mulciber started sucking up to Rosier instead of me. Dunno why; he saw what happened last year with you."

Tom cringed. "Don't mention that."

It did sort of bother him that Mulciber was suddenly besties with Rosier now, even though he thought Mulciber was on his side. Tom just mentally made a note to ensure that the people on his side were really on his side.

Because of Tom's constant obsession with finding the truth about his heritage, he also knew the sacred twenty-eight by heart. Mulciber, despite being a pureblood (he fact-checked this), was not on it. However, Rosier was.

"Anyway, I'm stuck on this transfiguration spell—hey, where're you going?"

Tom got up and walked up towards Mulciber and Rosier. He peered over them and saw them struggling to chart a star for their astronomy homework.

Mulciber glanced behind him and nearly jumped off his seat when he saw Tom.

"Hi.. Tom! Riddle!"

"No need to add my last name; we're friends, aren't we?" Tom put on the most charming smile available.

He knew Mulciber was stuck up, was incredibly proud of his pureblood heritage and could say the worst things about people when given. But he was also a wimp and hated getting on the bad side of people he considered a potential threat. Tom shone in all the glory that someone might consider him a threat, powerful and scary. But he knew Mulciber secretly looked down on him. Avery was stupid but big-mouthed and also a lot more open-minded than one might think, so it was easy to tell him he was a pureblood and Avery believed it without a second thought. Mulciber was definitely more witty and resourceful. He clearly didn't believe Tom's purebloodedness, especially with a muggle-like last name. Tom had to do something about that. And fix his 'trouble' with Rosier.

"Pegasus is here and here." Tom placed his finger on two different locations of the regional map of the skies.

Mulciber flipped to the answer key and looked down at the direction Tom gave. "Oh, it's correct."

"I'm hurt you doubted me."

"What gives?" Rosier sneered, propping his elbow against the table.

"Why not?" Tom replied, without a beat. "I'm trying to help a friend."

"A friend? Really? I know you're smart enough to know Mulciber doesn't respect you as much as you think." Mulciber flinched in his seat.

Tom smiled. "I appreciate your recognition of my intelligence."

He took out his hand. "I want to start over. I don't care if you believe in my blood heritage or not. I will be completely honest with you. Both of my parents are dead."

silence.

"I grew up with a wizard that adopted me; he told me that both my parents are of magical descent. This is why I know for a fact I am a pureblood. But it's also why I am interested in finding out about my family here."

Well, he wasn't really lying. It was like a half-lie, so it was okay.

A lot of people were staring at them now, even Avery, who dropped his fork.

"I apologize for lacking in my manners beforehand. But I was being honest about my ancestry. I hope we can get along."

Mulciber's jaw was dropped open. Rosier looked at him in utter shock.

After a second, he coughed and shook Tom's hand. "Okay. I'm sorry for…er… not believing you."

Tom smiled. This was an honest smile, but it just looked friendlier compared to how he actually felt. He needed Rosier on his side.

"If you need help with anything for school, feel free to come to me. I got Outstanding on all my exams last year."

Tom didn't know why that last part just came out of his mouth. It was true; he had nothing else to do and wanted to perform well in school, so he did get Outstanding on everything. But it was something he kept to himself.

To maintain some sort of dignity, he went back to sit beside Avery and picked up a bowl of stew.

"Outstanding? On everything?!"

Tom let himself chuckle a bit. Avery was still the same.

***

Tom spent the rest of the week busying himself. He replied to Harry Potter's letter ages ago (two weeks to be exact) and still hasn't received a reply. He actually asked for more treats for Jeanne, although he only fed Jeanne the treats Harry Potter gave him twice, because he felt responsible to actually ask for something. Tom felt a little impatient; he wrote in his best handwriting.

One day, after school, in the Slytherin common room, Rosier slowly approached him.

"Uhm… I'm having trouble identifying the use of Salamander blood and its ethics…"

Tom promptly shut his own book and smiled. "Of course. Anything for a friend."

Soon, although Tom seemed to have no name for himself in the beginning to the other Slytherins, he had three boys from powerful pureblood families follow him around. Obviously, by definition, he was the leader. Just look at them.

On October 4th, 1940, a heavy package dropped in front of Rosier's table during study hall, nearly spilling the ink on both his and Tom's herbology assignment.

Rosier groaned as Avery and Mulciber curiously peered at what he got. He opened up the package to see a small wave of confetti fly into his face and a heavily decorated chocolate cupcake come out of the package spinning on a mini revolving stand. Then a special envelope that turned into the shape of a mouth that gently spoke, "Happy Birthday, Alfred," before it tore itself apart.

Tom also watched in amazement as Rosier blew the confetti away from his face.

"I didn't know Howlers could be that quiet." Mulciber piped in. "It's always screaming at me."

"It's your birthday? I had no idea!" Avery said as Tom patted Rosier's shoulder and whispered a 'happy birthday' loud enough for the group to hear.

Rosier sighed. "Yeah. My parents are big on celebrating birthdays and stuff; they said it's special to grow old and continue the blood line, or something."

Rosier dusted himself off and took a bite out of the cupcake. "How am I going to clean any of this?"

"Just leave it to the house eleves, that's what they're for." Mulciber just shrugged and went back to his homework.

Tom sighed, frustrated, staring at the elective applications.

"None of the second years even have access to that yet and yet you're still stuck." Avery said, looking at what Tom was staring down at.

"I asked the older kids and all of the electives are just as equally enticing."

"Oh yeah, the older kids just love you." Rosier said, already done with his cupcake. "Wish sixth-year girls would treat me like that."

"That's just because you're not as handsome as me and Tom!" Avery declared, his arm around Tom's shoulder. He just sighed and kept up a smile.

Avery's jokes faltered when they could hear quiet sobs near them. Arthur Jones, one of the fellow muggle-borns in Slytherin, was in complete shambles.

"What's up with him?" Rosier mocked, as they all watched Jones grip onto a piece of newspaper really hard.

"Muggles are getting really strategic about having no magic lately." Tom overheard one of the students informing the others while comforting Arthur, "Started bombing muggle London. Arthur's parent's live there. No idea what happened to 'em."

Tom felt his blood run cold.

"Bombing? What's that?" Mulciber asked, not really expecting anyone to answer.

Harry Potter lived in muggle London.

Tom was versed in muggle culture to know clearly what a bombing was.

***

Tom Marvolo Riddle was very uncomfortable for the next few days.

It was clear the rest of the gang caught on to Tom's slight shift in mood, but they stayed quiet because he pretended everything was normal.

He fed Jeanne an extra treat and told her to get her hands (claws?) on muggle newspapers and the Daily Prophet (he saw the other students get their weekly hand on them; he wanted one too) and to find Harry Potter if possible.

As he watched Jeanne fly out of the owlery. Feeling exhausted, he went back into Hogwarts. 

It wasn't like he was worried about Harry Potter at all, no. But he was legally written out of Wool's. He did not have a home to go to if Harry Potter was affected.

He wondered if Wool's was affected, too. It was in the near heart of London, after all.

He hated muggles.

***

"Halloween is soon," Mulciber added to their ongoing conversation. Tom only just started listening, dazing off as he stared down at his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay, barely even starting it.

It was radio silence. Jeanne was regularly dropping muggle newspapers and the Daily Prophet, but absolutely no news about Harry Potter. He ran out of treats to give her and actually needed more of them now. Harry Potter told him to feed her sparingly, but he was out of his mind.

The bombing, now nicknamed 'The Blitz', was still ongoing all over Britain. The Daily Prophet was only concerned with the muggle building being destroyed, therefore crushing all entrances to the Ministry of Magic.

Tom found it quite interesting how vastly different yet similar muggle and magical news stories were. They all correlated to the same scenario situations but were worried about two completely different things entirely.

"Quidditch tryouts are this coming November. Are any of you trying out?" Avery asked.

They were all sitting in the common room together, the fireplace crackling and igniting a warm light onto everyone, reminding Tom of... 'home."

Mulciber shook his head frantically. "No way, no way. Have you seen those bludgers? No way."

Tom shrugged. "I'm not interested. I've seen the matches; they don't interest me enough to play them myself."

Avery dropped his head to the side. 'I want to try out Chaser, but my parents hate Quidditch. They don't want my fingers getting splinters or anything for piano. And they hated how obsessed my brother was with it."

Rosier beamed. "I'm definitely trying out for Keeper. I think I have the physique to try it out."

Tom silently agreed with Rosier. He was quite tall for his age and probably had the money to fund any expensive brooms. His height was the only way he could taunt Tom back in September.

"Anyway, my sister got invited to the Slug Club again but she didn't go and Slughorn decided to start pestering me about it. I told him she didn't care for it and to end it. Then he started talking to me more. I think I'm his next target since my sister's graduating next year. I'm not even got in potions!" Avery flopped into his cushioned armchair.

"Slug Club? What's that?" Tom asked, turning his head. He already knew of Slughorn's obsession with 'worthy' students, but he's never heard of that before.

Avery shrugged. "Dunno. My brother was in it too. Slughorn just invites a bunch of students with a name for themselves and stuff. Probably why he's after me now. Since my sister doesn't care for it."

Rosier leaned back. "One of my cousins was in it. My family thinks it's stupid."

"My parents actually pestered my sister to go. For connections and stuff. But she's shy or whatever. I don't think they really cared though, because my brother graduated only last year so useful connections were probably already made. I'm guessing they expect me to join eventually, though."

Connections... the word floated around in Tom's mind. Avery and Rosier would probably get invited. Mulciber too. They were all wealthy purebloods.

Tom stared back down at his half-finished Herbology essay.

He needed to take his mind off the Blitz somehow.

"How do you join the Slug Club?"

"Well, I think he only officially invites fourth-year students and above. From my experience at least." Avery pondered. "But he's infamous in pureblood circles; I think everyone here knows at least one person in their family that's been apart of it. He likes getting in our heads early."

Mulciber stretched his arms. He was completely silent the entire time, focusing on his own herbology essay. Tom assumed he was already done. "Well, I don't mind if he strokes my ego. His club is like easy access to climb your way to the top. Plus, he makes you feel good about yourself. So what's the worse bit?"

Everyone around collectively agreed.

If Tom was going to maintain his position as a leader of infamous and wealthy purebloods trailing after him. He had to also join the Slug Club. Even if he wasn't old enough, he had to seep his way in there.

***

"HAPPY HALLOWEEN!" someone yelled at the Gryffindor table. Tom plugged his ears with his fingers, glaring at the table across.

It was a Thursday morning and the Great Hall was already bustling with excited students. Although the thought of Dumbledore easily escaped Tom for a while, everyone was talking about how he relaxed everyone's schedules for the day as a way to celebrate. Nearly everyone was already in costume, and the staff was busying themselves in scolding them to change back into their uniforms. They still had classes in the morning, no matter how fun the celebrations got later in the day.

"Why couldn't the heastmaster just push it up to a Friday?" Mulciber spread so much butter on his toast it looked like a mini mountain wedge.

"They can't do that. Tryouts start on November 1st." Rosier argued. "Plus, I get an extra day to do my charms homework."

Tom glared at him. "If you're late again in submitting again, I'm never helping you with any of your assignments ever." Roser raised his hands in surrender.

Tom cringed a bit watching Mulciber take a bit into the toast. So much butter.

He's always had a slight distaste for Halloween. Even at Wool's, everyone wore cheap, badly made costumes and would be given candy and, on the off occasion, trick-or-treating.

Tom is too shy to say this on his own accord, but he does have a sweet tooth and tagged along in a badly made ghost costume when he was grouped with a bunch of other boys and girls to go trick or treating. It was a few years after The Great Depression hit (Tom was surprised to find that the Wizarding World was not affected by this at all) and any kind of food, including sweets, was rare and had to be rationed. There were a total of 10 kids and a singular bag to share. No one really cared about Tom, and he liked to hide in the shadows, so he just munched on a few pieces of rock candy and followed behind quietly.

He didn't hold any particular fondness for anyone at Wool's, but when he watched a bunch of older teenage boys push the kids around and steal their candy, leaving most of them a crying mess, Tom felt angry for them.

His ghost costume, although cheap and badly made, covered him entirely head to toe. So he secretly followed the group of teenage boys—four of them—into a forest, where they ate the candy and made jokes and laughed at each other.

Of course, when they went missing, Tom wasn't even considered as a potential suspect. There were so many kids his height and age that also dressed in similar costumes.

Although bullies, they died so pathetically. Tom would hate to see himself in such a position. He silently smiled to himself when he thought back. He was only eight years old then. He wondered if anybody found their bodies in the river creek. He never kept up with the neighbourhood news.

"Gryffindor's hosting a huge Halloween party again." Rosier whispered to the group. "Of course, they invited every house except us. I was thinking of crashing it and ruining the party. I figured out the password to their dorm and it's—" Rosier snickered, "Periwinkle."

"How're gunna cwash the party?" Mulciber whispered back, mouth full with his last bite of toast.

"So I was thinking since our last morning period is potion we could brew up—"

Tom slammed his copy of Wuthering Heights on the table, shutting everyone up and outting their attention on him.

"That is outright stupid," Tom stated. "And immature."

"I'd rather we do something actually productive. Like that charms homework," Tom stared at Rosier. "Or make more friends, I don't know." He shot Avery a glance. They had been quietly discussing recruiting other purebloods into their group as well.

"Also, I suggest you all change. You guys are still in your jamm—pyjamas." Tom stood up from his seat. He was the only one in uniform. "And eat with your mouth closed, Mulciber." He smiled before walking away. "See you guys in herbology."

As Tom walked up the grand staircase back to his dorm, he saw Avery run up to him from the corner of his eye.

"Tom-" huff,  "Jeanne left a letter."

Avery bent down to his knees to catch a breather after Tom took the envelope from him.

He flipped to the back to see who sent it, only for his eyes to widen.

From: Harry Potter

To: Tom Riddle