The Sun Also Shines on the Wicked

Twillfit and Tatting's had a rather imposing air to those who didn't have the gold to afford their robes. It was a tall building that seemed to exude the sort of snobbery common amongst rich purebloods, but it was marred slightly when a witch about the age of nineteen stalked out of its front door with her grinning younger brother trailing in her wake.

"Antares, just...just go," Belladonna Rosier spat. "It's bad enough I have been forced to take you shopping for Hogwarts, but when you start being a fussy little twit in front of Mother's friends− Urgh, I'm going to go meet Nathaniel, and I don't want to even see you until it's time for us to go home."

Antares pushed past his sister who was laden with all the school supplies that he had refused to carry. "Whatever you say, Donna," he said, deliberately using the nickname she hated whilst smiling angelically, and quickly disappeared into the throng of shoppers to avoid getting cursed.

Shopping for school supplies was tedious in this boy's mind, and he would much rather have spent the day exploring the various interesting shops of Diagon Alley than being stuck with his older sister as a chaperone. Quills, ink and expensive new robes were nothing new, and the way Antares saw it, Donna should have just been made to do the boring stuff while he got to go out and have fun. Now if only he could find someone he knew to come along with him...

Oh Merlin, it's Walburga! the voice in Antares's head exclaimed with a certain sense of dread, but luckily a portly old wizard came walking past at that very moment and the boy was able to walk along beside him, hiding himself from the view of the skinny, dark-haired girl that was heading down towards the robes shop. The only downside of being in my family is getting stuck with her every time our mums get together for a chat. Antares shook himself. Thinking about the grating voice of that mini-banshee was not exactly his favourite pastime.

His fingers twitched with impatience. Antares usually got bored with startling speed and ease, and the absence of anyone to keep his mind occupied was already getting to him. Eyes that were the colour of dark caramel switched from face to face in the crowd as he casually pocketed a broom compass. It had been lying on a stall table with an assortment of other trinkets and he took it when the peddler wasn't looking, simply because he could.

Antares's hand, the one not busy clutching the bag containing his new wand, reached up and rubbed the back of his neck almost subconsciously. The feeling of eyes watching him made his skin prickle and after a moment he spun around. Not far behind him was a boy of about his own height. Where Antares' hair fell into his eyes and was a glossy mahogany colour, this boy's was shorter and the colour of the midnight sky.

Tom Riddle smirked and Antares knew he had seen him pinch the compass. "What, going to go dob me in to the old geezer, are you?" he sneered.

"How can I go tell him you've stolen something you haven't got?"

"What are you on about, you saw me take it−" Antares stopped what he was saying as his hand fished around in his robe pocket and came out quite empty. He was clutching a few sweets wrappers, a Sickle and a Secrecy Eraser that he had taken from Scribbulus Stationary Store, but not the compass he was searching for.

It was being waved about in his face now that the other boy had approached him. Before Antares could reach out and grab it back, the broom compass had disappeared into the folds of Tom's green robes and that was the last time he ever saw it.

"How did you get that?" he demanded angrily, which only served to make Tom grin with self-satisfaction. "I put it in my pocket, I know I did. You can't have just reached in and taken it."

"Are you telling me you can't move things without touching them?" Tom's voice was a mixture of contempt and curiosity as he studied the boy standing opposite him.

Far from being annoyed that what he had stolen had then been taken from him, Antares felt that his interest had been sparked. "You can? Prove it."

Tom's dark eyes narrowed with annoyance. "Don't tell me what to do." He had enough of a problem with adults trying to order him around and he wasn't used to children trying to do it too; the orphans at Vauxhall rarely dared to. The ones that did always regretted it.

Strangely enough, Antares did as Tom said. The way he had spoken didn't give any choice to do otherwise.

The pure-blood raised his chin a little and focussed on the dark-haired stranger with an inquisitive expression that made his dark eyes seem to sparkle. "So what's your name, then?"

Sickened revulsion churned in Tom's stomach when he was forced to remove his robes and don his old clothes from the orphanage. They already thought him crazy, and if he returned dressed in robes, Mrs Cole might call for the people from the asylum.

The feeling ebbed a little when Tom looked down at all the bags in his hands. They were laden with robes and a whole assortment of school supplies. He also had managed to find several very cheap history and spell books from a dusty junk shop full of teetering piles of clutter of mysterious origin and purpose. He had just over a week til the start of term and he intended to absorb as much information as possible.

Meeting Antares had been very useful to Tom. He had gleaned much information from talking to the young wizard, who did not seem to realise that Tom was not familiar with the wizarding world and its customs. Most people tended to trip up and reveal their ignorance when pretending to be familiar with a subject they have no knowledge about, but Tom didn't have to worry about that. When talking to Antares he could faintly sense the replies the boy expected, especially if he maintained eye contact. Tom also dominated the conversation by asking most of the questions. So as far as Antares was concerned, Tom Riddle was as much a wizard as he was, just a little more sheltered than others he knew.

It was getting to late afternoon by the time Tom slipped in through the Vauxhall's iron gates. The air had turned into a stiflingly warm blanket and those windows of the building that hadn't been painted shut were thrown open to try and make the rooms within a little less suffocating.

Pushing open the front door, Tom stepped into the darkened interior. He was just in time to see one of the helpers, Vera, come through and flick a switch that blended into the mottled wall paper. Yellow light flickered for a moment and came on, lighting up the sparse foyer. Tom stood close to the staircase leading up to the second floor, effectively invisible except to those who looked directly down at him.

Vera was making patient, coaxing hand gestures, as if she was trying to get a frightened puppy to follow her, to someone Tom couldn't see. "Come on, Amy. See, it's light here too, no dark and no big shadows. Let's get you upstairs for a nap."

A young, chubby girl with mousy brown hair that fell limply about her shoulders cautiously emerged and, after her wide blue eyes had made a darting sweep around the room, hurried to the woman's side. She didn't cling to Vera or even try to hold her hand, for she wouldn't have been allowed to. The orphans at Vauxhall were fed and given a basic education, but when it came to receiving hugs, encouragements or anything of the sort, the carers would not, and could not, provide. They were simply too busy with all the children and that was not part of their duties.

"Sweet dreams, Amy," Tom said with a voice of innocence that was tainted by the demonic grin on his face.

Amy's attention was drawn to Tom by the sound of his voice and the girl's eyes seemed to widen to the size of saucers as that grin sharply brought back memories; that overwhelming feeling of terror, the horrible engulfing darkness of the cave...

"Don't mind her, Tom," Vera assured the apparently startled boy as she pried Amy's arms from around her waist. The girl was making fearful whimpering noises and shaking like a leaf. "Amy, it's just Tom. You have nothing to worry about, he's not any danger," she soothed as Tom cast them one last glance over his shoulder and he moved past them up the stairs and to his room.

Vera felt a cold shiver tingle down her spine from the fleeting instance she locked eyes with Tom. She had only been working at the orphanage for three days and she was not aware of the particular circumstances that had caused Amy to be this way. Tom's guiltless face had given her the distinct impression that he was very much a danger and that not worrying about him was a grave mistake. But then the moment was broken when he turned his back on them, and Amy finally relinquished her tight grip on Vera's apron. The woman mentally berated herself for such foolish thoughts and returned all her focus to the scared child beside her.

The last of Tom's foul mood had evaporated on that staircase with Amy Benson. Her fright had made him forget the disgust he had for the clothes he wore and her reaction boosted his sense of power over the other children. And they had better not forget it either, because they know what will happen if they do.

Tom carefully deposited his purchases in the almost empty flimsy wooden wardrobe that sat in the corner of his room. He picked a thick book on the history of wizardry in Britain from one of the bags and seated himself on his bed, a second later realising he had left the bedroom door wide open in his haste to get inside and begin poring over his possessions. Dark eyes trained on the dull brass door knob for a moment and flared with satisfaction as the door swung shut with a decisive thump.

Secure in the knowledge that no one would bother him for hours, Tom opened the book and begun to read at a startling pace, hungrily devouring every word.

Tom looked through the window of his train compartment, and observed a young witch who was obviously more than a little reluctant to leave her parents and board the train. A cold sneer of contempt crossed his pale features as the mother hugged her daughter and whispered reassurances in her ear. If the stupid cry-baby doesn't want to go, she shouldn't be allowed in. She doesn't deserve it.

This train of thought was interrupted when Tom saw Antares walking up to another wizard who had just said a very formal goodbye to a man who was obviously his father. Only moments before, Antares had been seated opposite Tom in the compartment, but had quickly excused himself when he had spotted the boy on the platform, saying that he was going to go get his friend to introduce him to Tom.

Tom raised no objections. From his reading he now knew Rosier was what was deemed a 'pure-blood', and from what he had gathered by talking to him, Tom was sure in the knowledge that this other wizard would be too. The more of them, the better. I don't want to even have to be near the ones that come from families with no magic in them. Idiotic, worthless rubbish shouldn't even be here.

A minute passed and soon there were only a handful of students on the platform as the hands on the large station clock crept closer to the eleventh hour. The compartment door slid open noisily and Antares reappeared, followed by the other boy. He looked shorter than Tom had expected, but that was partly because he was standing behind Antares and he only reached shoulder level.

"Riddle, this is Lachlan Avery. Lach, this is Tom Riddle." Antares gestured between the two as he slid gracefully back into his window seat and stretched out, propping his feet up on the place beside him. He purposely referred to Tom by his surname because he had seen how the other wizard's expression had darkened ever so slightly when he had first called him by his given name. Remembering a cage of Puffskeins that had come tumbling down off the top shelf in the Magical Menagerie when he questioned Tom about it made Antares note this was not a subject he'd bring up again in the near future.

Tom and Avery both had pale skin, but where Tom's leant him a look of refinement, Lachlan had the pallor of a thing kept in the dark for too long. The boys nodded a greeting to one another, though Tom barely inclined his head as Avery rested his hands on his knobbly knees after he chose the seat closest to the door.

Tom's dark gaze gave no room for escape as he focussed on Lachlan. For a moment, he intently studied the boy without saying a single thing. "What's your father's job?" he questioned finally.

Lachlan squirmed. He felt acutely uncomfortable with the way Tom was looking at him, it made him feel trapped. The uneasiness was masked by Lachlan scratching the back of his neck lazily as he answered, "Father is in charge at the Obliviator Headquarters in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes." The quaver in Avery's voice quickly disappeared. His father's influential role within the Ministry gave Lachlan a sense of security when he was in situations he wasn't totally comfortable in, such as this one. Tom's dark eyes gave the impression they were going to bore through his skull and see right into his mind.

Avery Sr. had already disapparated, but before he had done so, Tom had seen a man that appeared constantly aware of his surroundings. The man had only focussed directly on his son when saying goodbye and giving a few start-of-school tips, though to the idle observer the father had been giving Lachlan his undivided attention. Tom had seen differently.

"Does that mean he actually goes around Obliviating the really big mistakes or does he just order people around now?"

Avery blinked. People were normally intimidated after finding out what his father did, or at least discouraged from asking further questions in case it lead to them revealing their own fathers' less important professions. In fact, being asked for more answers was not something Lachlan was used to.

"Err..."

The beginnings of a sneer were starting to trace themselves across Tom's lips. "You go on about how good your father is and you don't even know what he does?"

"He's high up in the Ministry, I can't go and just tell anyone about what happens there!" Lachlan looked indignant and lapsed into silence.

"I'm not jealous," Tom voiced in a tone that would have been cold if it wasn't already freezing.

Antares had been engrossed in watching the exchange between the two and now looked warily at Tom.

The sounds of the train starting up went unnoticed by the three boys. Other students hung out the windows and waved to their families as the Hogwarts Express jolted to life and began to slowly drag itself out of the station, but Riddle, Rosier and Avery were sitting almost as still as statues, watching each other.

"I...I never said that," Lachlan stammered as he tried to settle his rattled nerves.

"You were thinking it though!"

Antares' jaw dropped.

"You can read minds too?" he squeaked.

Tom threw the wizard a sidelong glance before rolling his eyes. "Anyone with eyes could see Avery was thinking it, you don't need to read minds to know that. Are you telling me you couldn't even figure something that easy out?"

"I could so." Antares folded his arms and it was all he could do not to scowl. The mingled expressions that flitted across his face made Lachlan let out a suppressed snort of laughter, and what could potentially have turned into an explosive situation quickly fizzled out.

Many students still pushed through the corridors, trying to find a compartment, as the train picked up speed. A couple of young witches slid open the compartment door and saw Tom, Antares and Lachlan staring at them. Their conversation had stopped immediately upon their arrival and the haughty looks of disdain on the face of Antares especially made the pair leave without even bothering to ask if they could sit there.

The train journey was passed talking about what the school year had in store for them. After the conversation grew tiresome, Tom returned to reading a particularly heavy tome he had acquired while the other two chatted about their summers. He made no effort to join in that particular conversation and Antares was unwilling to ask more questions of Riddle.

"Would any of you dears like something from the trolley?" a motherly voice enquired a few hours into the journey. Antares leapt out his seat and exchanged a considerable amount of gold for chocolates and other sweets. Lachlan bought a pastie from the witch, not having the same sweet tooth his friend did, and then sat down. The woman stood expectantly for a moment but Tom simply continued reading, ignoring her completely. He was not hungry, so all-consuming was his desire to reach the castle.

After a moment the trolley rattled off down the corridor and Lachlan slid the door closed again. As he sat back down in his place he looked over Tom's clothes again. The slightly faded fabrics and occasional odd button all pointed to Tom not having enough money to buy any food. Avery frowned slightly and a furrow creased his pale brow. Right now would be the time he would usually start teasing someone about their family not having enough gold, but for some reason with Tom he couldn't.

As the day begun to fade into dusk and the scenery became constant forests or meadows, many relatives or friends of Antares or Lachlan dropped in. Most were dressed in robes with a badge bearing a serpent intertwined with an emerald green 'S' and while their banter interested Tom, the badges captivated his attention.

Vague references in books had told Tom that the house Slytherin was symbolised by a serpent. I belong there, he thought. I'll be with proper wizards and not the riff-raff that don't even have any magic in their families.

It never occurred to Tom that he could have been a Muggleborn; he knew with every fibre of his being that magical blood flowed through his veins like it had for his father.

My mother was weak. Her blood doesn't even count or she wouldn't have died.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tom felt the train beginning to slow. Beyond the train window, pitch black darkness reigned, and even the thin crescent moon could not shed any of its pale silvery-blue light because it was blanketed by a thick cover of swirling black clouds.

Screeching metal on tracks brought the train to a slow, grinding halt. Organised chaos ensued as the students scrambled to collect all the belongings that they hadn't already packed away. Lachlan was still scrambling under the compartment seats for his wand when Tom walked out, not bothering to wait for any of the others. Once or twice he was jostled from behind when someone tried to push in front to get out of the train quicker, but they soon backed off at his annoyed hissing.

Finally Tom reached an exit and jumped off onto the platform. He landed lightly on the paving stones and straightened up. The cool breeze wafted past him, lifting a few strands of hair and ruffling his robes. Antares appeared beside Tom and was about to nudge him with his elbow but thought better of it after getting a look from the other wizard.

"Lachlan still hasn't found his wand but I couldn't be stuffed waiting. C'mon, we're supposed to be going over there," he motioned, pointing to where a bulky man with a blazing torch was standing, surrounded by a group of young witches and wizards who had obviously never been to Hogwarts before this night. As Tom and Antares approached, Tom saw they were all standing a lot closer together than was normal, and many were looking around with varying degrees of nervous expressions on their faces.

Once the groundskeeper was satisfied that all the first-years were congregated around him, he nodded gruffly. "Right, you lot, follow me. We're going to the lake."

And with that he turned around and started walking, holding the blazing torch high to cast a flickering orange glow over the uneven grounds they were crossing.

The swirling clouds rolled back from the moon and the grounds became faintly outlined with blue light. All Tom could see were towering pine trees and boulders that loomed out of the darkness like monsters.

Then the group reached the crest of a small hill and Tom stopped, transfixed at the sight before him. An enormous, sprawling castle lay in the distance, outlined against the night sky; its glowing windows and countless turrets surpassing any of the images Tom had conjured up in his mind. The moment was as if frozen in time - the very second that Tom Marvolo Riddle first laid eyes on Hogwarts castle.