1 ficlet challenge #039, 1 fic challenge #002
Title: The first year
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Tom Riddle
Summary: A small reflection on Tom's first year, via the seasons.
Word Count: 448
Autumn
Tom is allowed to choose robes for himself, though the act pales in comparison to buying his wand. He watches Madam Malkin with large dark eyes, letting her pry at his cuff edges and wind a tape measure around the sharp angles of his body. He's a little short, a little skinny for his age, he's heard the Orphanage Doctor say the same things paired with the same numbers. But Madam Malkin didn't pass judgement - instead she produced a length of material, and set her wand to crafting it for an exact fit to his body.
The Sorting Hat doesn't touch his head before yelling Slytherin!. No explanation, no chance to persuade. And when Tom learns properly what the houses mean, he is proud that the Sorting Hat required so little to know his true place.
He is alone as he passes between lessons. His cloak is always drawn close against the autumnal winds. Hundreds of children pass about him in those first three months, as present and unnoticed as the bright leaves that blow around his boots.
Winter
"He doesn't have any parents, do you Tom?"
'Students are permitted to remain in the castle during the Christmas holiday'. The letter has been sitting snugly in his breast pocket since the beginning of November. He has been dreading a return to the Orphanage where he'll become an attraction for the new children, an oddity to provoke, and Tom doesn't care for the other children. Especially now that he is beginning to learn the ways in which he his better.
Spring
Only he and Dumbledore know about the secret language he shares with snakes. Tom can't help but swell at the obvious connection - his own talent, the hissing language that allows him to control any serpent. In the dorm rooms their beds are adorned with tiny carved snakes, curled against the joins of the wood. Tom watches them in the dim light, whispering of his destiny, his true birth right.
Tom Marvolo Riddle does have parents.
Summer
That first summer a child is lost forever. They don't teach harmful magic at Hogwarts, but no one needs to tell Tom about the possibilities of dark magic. He can hear the potential in their hesitancy, their fear to speak of it with children, children who they believe incapable of what they view as wrong.
Her screams fill up the air, clotted thick with heat. In the midst of that first summer he tastes his own deliberate rage. He allows the magic to bubble forth with his anger, a natural progession of one to the other. When it is over he is breathless, and a child is lost forever.
Title: A note
Rating/Warnings: G
Characters/Pairing: Walburga and Orion Black
Summary: A note at breakfast delivers news that Sirius has been sorted to Gryffindor. Walburga written by painfullybored
Word Count: 1275
Orion lifted his eyes from the Daily Prophet, "honestly, you'd think the Minister would do something about all of this" he said in an exasperated tone, jabbing a finger at the latest headlines concerning goblin strikes. He glanced down as his wife failed to answer him, catching a glimpse of Kreacher as he bowed out of sight.
"From Sirius?" he asked as she pursued the note she'd been handed, pouring himself another cup of tea.
"What?" Came the incredulous shriek from across the table, rattling the milk jug he had been reaching for.
Walburga had already left her seat and was sifting through the papers on her desk by the time Orion had the note in his hands. Condolences for Sirius' sorting from friends, the amusement so thinly veiled as to be almost insulting. He glanced up from the note, catching a flash of red in her hands
"DOESN'T EVEN HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL US HIMSELF NOT THAT HE OUGHTN'T BE TOTALLY ASHAMED OF HOW HE'S EMBARRASSING HIS FAMILY," she suddenly fumed, drawing a wince from Orion as he moved from his seat to join her.
"I find howlers to be so undignified," he said carefully, vanishing the red parchment from her view and reach.
"WELL WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO? WAIT TILL CHRISTMAS. THIS IS MORTIFYING."
"If he's already there you can't shout him down to the dungeons," he said pointedly. "Perhaps it is a mistake. Perhaps not, I just don't think..."
"Maybe you could talk to Dumbledore?" Walburga implored him, "get this whole mess sorted out? You're right, it has to be a mistake." Orion hadn't meant to convince her of that, only that it was possible their friends were mistaken. Messages could easily be passed along wrongly. Though really he felt that the lack of an owl from Sirius spoke volumes.
"Walburga, Dumbledore doesn't control the Sorting Hat, you know that," he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. He wasn't about to apparate to Hogwarts and demand to speak with the Sorting Hat, or for Dumbledore to over-turn the decision. No man of sense could argue the Sorting Hat was wrong off the back of a single decision, and for all they knew Sirius had asked to be placed in Gryffindor, though he wasn't about to point this out to his wife.
"Well it's still a mistake!" she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Sirius' decision or the hat's folly aside, Orion wasn't particularly pleased to learn that his son had been sorted to Gryffindor. He felt a tug of disappointment that his eldest son had not followed in their footsteps, but it was done now. "And if he is in Gryffindor," he said tensely "we can't call him home."
"But can't...we can't just leave him there-" she protested "they'll to terrible things to him in that tower, you know they will."
Orion guided her back to the breakfast table. He pulled back her chair and turned the padded cushions of those about the table a cheerful shade of red. The corner of his lip lifted slightly, fingers lingering on her shoulder.
"That is not funny," she snapped.
"Sorry," he said quickly, slipping into the chair beside hers "but really, they're just children."
"The wrong sorts of children! They let anyone into Gryffindor, how's he supposed to do well when he gets out of school if his associates are mudbloods and worse?"
"Sirius isn't stupid," he assured her "he'll choose the right friends. Perhaps it's well that he's gone to Gryffindor -- perhaps he'll be a good influence there." It was hardly uncommon for the children of purebloods to find themselves sorted to Gryffindor, though of course it had been tradition for the Blacks to be sorted to Slytherin. Orion couldn't help finding the idea of 'terrible things' happening to Sirius a little amusing. He rather thought that the terrible things had been taken to Gryffindor Tower. "Besides," he continued, "Sirius has always been a little uh..." he trailed off, diverting his attention to returning the cushions to their usual shade of dark green.
Walburga rolled her eyes and pushed away the plate in front of her, "I can't even eat" she said tersely.
"Really?" he asked, looking interestedly at the abandoned sausage on her plate. There was no sense wasting good food on account of Sirius' unfortunate sorting. By now Orion was quite convinced that the whole matter was for the best really. If the Sorting Hat had decided that Sirius belonged in Gryffindor, then it was surely the best place for him. Though he had little fondness for some of Dumbledore's sensibilities the Sorting Hat had worked effectively for centuries, and there was no reason to doubt it on the account of a single sorting.
Walburga glared and pushed her plate towards him "And what're we supposed to tell our friends about this?" she said as he drew the plate closer "It's not like we can keep it a secret."
"This is why it's a good idea to think before doing anything rash. Others would surely be delighted to think that were somehow harmed by Sirius' sorting. It's unexpected, but he's still the same boy who climbed onto the train." There were plenty who'd be quick to gloat. That was why they ought to counter it first - to say that it was hardly planned, but this was their son, there was no doubting his brilliance or that he would achieve great things regardless of the house he went to.
There was silence for a moment, in which Orion considered his plate and exactly what they ought to say next to Sirius.
"And what about Regulus- you don't think he'll want to go just because Sirius is there?" she asked with a glance towards the doorway.
Orion doubted that Regulus would follow his brother. Their temperaments were quite different, though before today he hadn't been able to imagine Sirius being anywhere but Slytherin either. "We'll talk to him before he goes, tell him that he ought to let the hat decide," he suggested.
"I always hated that filthy old hat," Walburga said sourly.
"At least he isn't in Hufflepuff" Orion pointed out.
Walburga opened her mouth, paused for a moment then reclaimed her sausage with her fork "Well, at least there's that." Orion watched her eating with a vague expression of disappointment. It seemed her loss of appetite had been fleeting, though at least she was no longer shouting.
"I'll write to Sirius, explain that he is still expected to do his best," he said with a sort of finality. It wouldn't surprise him to find that Sirius had written off the whole experience as a loss, and cast himself to less scholarly-inclined pursuits. It had been all they could do to sit the boy down long enough to learn his letters at home, but Orion was certain that the atmosphere of Hogwarts would make something remarkable of Sirius' natural intelligence.
"Today?" she asked.
"Right now," he replied, standing from the dinner table now that she had stopped shouting and extra sausages were no longer an option.
She patted his arm, "Thank you, dear. I'm sure he'll listen to you."
Orion had never felt confident that his eldest son listened to him. Certainly he made the right responses, and gave the occasional illusion of obedience but Sirius was the sort of child whose mind was off playing even whilst they were scolded and sent to their room. Still, he liked the peace and quiet of Grimmauld Place enough to waste ink and Sirius was a good boy really, he'd make them proud.
Sam//Slytherin
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Tom Riddle
Summary: A small reflection on Tom's first year, via the seasons.
Word Count: 448
Autumn
Tom is allowed to choose robes for himself, though the act pales in comparison to buying his wand. He watches Madam Malkin with large dark eyes, letting her pry at his cuff edges and wind a tape measure around the sharp angles of his body. He's a little short, a little skinny for his age, he's heard the Orphanage Doctor say the same things paired with the same numbers. But Madam Malkin didn't pass judgement - instead she produced a length of material, and set her wand to crafting it for an exact fit to his body.
The Sorting Hat doesn't touch his head before yelling Slytherin!. No explanation, no chance to persuade. And when Tom learns properly what the houses mean, he is proud that the Sorting Hat required so little to know his true place.
He is alone as he passes between lessons. His cloak is always drawn close against the autumnal winds. Hundreds of children pass about him in those first three months, as present and unnoticed as the bright leaves that blow around his boots.
Winter
"He doesn't have any parents, do you Tom?"
'Students are permitted to remain in the castle during the Christmas holiday'. The letter has been sitting snugly in his breast pocket since the beginning of November. He has been dreading a return to the Orphanage where he'll become an attraction for the new children, an oddity to provoke, and Tom doesn't care for the other children. Especially now that he is beginning to learn the ways in which he his better.
Spring
Only he and Dumbledore know about the secret language he shares with snakes. Tom can't help but swell at the obvious connection - his own talent, the hissing language that allows him to control any serpent. In the dorm rooms their beds are adorned with tiny carved snakes, curled against the joins of the wood. Tom watches them in the dim light, whispering of his destiny, his true birth right.
Tom Marvolo Riddle does have parents.
Summer
That first summer a child is lost forever. They don't teach harmful magic at Hogwarts, but no one needs to tell Tom about the possibilities of dark magic. He can hear the potential in their hesitancy, their fear to speak of it with children, children who they believe incapable of what they view as wrong.
Her screams fill up the air, clotted thick with heat. In the midst of that first summer he tastes his own deliberate rage. He allows the magic to bubble forth with his anger, a natural progession of one to the other. When it is over he is breathless, and a child is lost forever.
Title: A note
Rating/Warnings: G
Characters/Pairing: Walburga and Orion Black
Summary: A note at breakfast delivers news that Sirius has been sorted to Gryffindor. Walburga written by painfullybored
Word Count: 1275
Orion lifted his eyes from the Daily Prophet, "honestly, you'd think the Minister would do something about all of this" he said in an exasperated tone, jabbing a finger at the latest headlines concerning goblin strikes. He glanced down as his wife failed to answer him, catching a glimpse of Kreacher as he bowed out of sight.
"From Sirius?" he asked as she pursued the note she'd been handed, pouring himself another cup of tea.
"What?" Came the incredulous shriek from across the table, rattling the milk jug he had been reaching for.
Walburga had already left her seat and was sifting through the papers on her desk by the time Orion had the note in his hands. Condolences for Sirius' sorting from friends, the amusement so thinly veiled as to be almost insulting. He glanced up from the note, catching a flash of red in her hands
"DOESN'T EVEN HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL US HIMSELF NOT THAT HE OUGHTN'T BE TOTALLY ASHAMED OF HOW HE'S EMBARRASSING HIS FAMILY," she suddenly fumed, drawing a wince from Orion as he moved from his seat to join her.
"I find howlers to be so undignified," he said carefully, vanishing the red parchment from her view and reach.
"WELL WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO? WAIT TILL CHRISTMAS. THIS IS MORTIFYING."
"If he's already there you can't shout him down to the dungeons," he said pointedly. "Perhaps it is a mistake. Perhaps not, I just don't think..."
"Maybe you could talk to Dumbledore?" Walburga implored him, "get this whole mess sorted out? You're right, it has to be a mistake." Orion hadn't meant to convince her of that, only that it was possible their friends were mistaken. Messages could easily be passed along wrongly. Though really he felt that the lack of an owl from Sirius spoke volumes.
"Walburga, Dumbledore doesn't control the Sorting Hat, you know that," he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. He wasn't about to apparate to Hogwarts and demand to speak with the Sorting Hat, or for Dumbledore to over-turn the decision. No man of sense could argue the Sorting Hat was wrong off the back of a single decision, and for all they knew Sirius had asked to be placed in Gryffindor, though he wasn't about to point this out to his wife.
"Well it's still a mistake!" she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Sirius' decision or the hat's folly aside, Orion wasn't particularly pleased to learn that his son had been sorted to Gryffindor. He felt a tug of disappointment that his eldest son had not followed in their footsteps, but it was done now. "And if he is in Gryffindor," he said tensely "we can't call him home."
"But can't...we can't just leave him there-" she protested "they'll to terrible things to him in that tower, you know they will."
Orion guided her back to the breakfast table. He pulled back her chair and turned the padded cushions of those about the table a cheerful shade of red. The corner of his lip lifted slightly, fingers lingering on her shoulder.
"That is not funny," she snapped.
"Sorry," he said quickly, slipping into the chair beside hers "but really, they're just children."
"The wrong sorts of children! They let anyone into Gryffindor, how's he supposed to do well when he gets out of school if his associates are mudbloods and worse?"
"Sirius isn't stupid," he assured her "he'll choose the right friends. Perhaps it's well that he's gone to Gryffindor -- perhaps he'll be a good influence there." It was hardly uncommon for the children of purebloods to find themselves sorted to Gryffindor, though of course it had been tradition for the Blacks to be sorted to Slytherin. Orion couldn't help finding the idea of 'terrible things' happening to Sirius a little amusing. He rather thought that the terrible things had been taken to Gryffindor Tower. "Besides," he continued, "Sirius has always been a little uh..." he trailed off, diverting his attention to returning the cushions to their usual shade of dark green.
Walburga rolled her eyes and pushed away the plate in front of her, "I can't even eat" she said tersely.
"Really?" he asked, looking interestedly at the abandoned sausage on her plate. There was no sense wasting good food on account of Sirius' unfortunate sorting. By now Orion was quite convinced that the whole matter was for the best really. If the Sorting Hat had decided that Sirius belonged in Gryffindor, then it was surely the best place for him. Though he had little fondness for some of Dumbledore's sensibilities the Sorting Hat had worked effectively for centuries, and there was no reason to doubt it on the account of a single sorting.
Walburga glared and pushed her plate towards him "And what're we supposed to tell our friends about this?" she said as he drew the plate closer "It's not like we can keep it a secret."
"This is why it's a good idea to think before doing anything rash. Others would surely be delighted to think that were somehow harmed by Sirius' sorting. It's unexpected, but he's still the same boy who climbed onto the train." There were plenty who'd be quick to gloat. That was why they ought to counter it first - to say that it was hardly planned, but this was their son, there was no doubting his brilliance or that he would achieve great things regardless of the house he went to.
There was silence for a moment, in which Orion considered his plate and exactly what they ought to say next to Sirius.
"And what about Regulus- you don't think he'll want to go just because Sirius is there?" she asked with a glance towards the doorway.
Orion doubted that Regulus would follow his brother. Their temperaments were quite different, though before today he hadn't been able to imagine Sirius being anywhere but Slytherin either. "We'll talk to him before he goes, tell him that he ought to let the hat decide," he suggested.
"I always hated that filthy old hat," Walburga said sourly.
"At least he isn't in Hufflepuff" Orion pointed out.
Walburga opened her mouth, paused for a moment then reclaimed her sausage with her fork "Well, at least there's that." Orion watched her eating with a vague expression of disappointment. It seemed her loss of appetite had been fleeting, though at least she was no longer shouting.
"I'll write to Sirius, explain that he is still expected to do his best," he said with a sort of finality. It wouldn't surprise him to find that Sirius had written off the whole experience as a loss, and cast himself to less scholarly-inclined pursuits. It had been all they could do to sit the boy down long enough to learn his letters at home, but Orion was certain that the atmosphere of Hogwarts would make something remarkable of Sirius' natural intelligence.
"Today?" she asked.
"Right now," he replied, standing from the dinner table now that she had stopped shouting and extra sausages were no longer an option.
She patted his arm, "Thank you, dear. I'm sure he'll listen to you."
Orion had never felt confident that his eldest son listened to him. Certainly he made the right responses, and gave the occasional illusion of obedience but Sirius was the sort of child whose mind was off playing even whilst they were scolded and sent to their room. Still, he liked the peace and quiet of Grimmauld Place enough to waste ink and Sirius was a good boy really, he'd make them proud.
Sam//Slytherin