The Sun Sets Twice Again

Chapter Twenty

Tom looked around the Great Hall casually, or at least in a manner that seemed casual and belied his nerves. The first years had been sorted, expressions of excitement and nervousness on their faces. The Slytherins had either looked very proud or vaguely sick, for the most part, which was much how he remembered it being at the other Sortings he had attended. He hadn't had either of those expressions on his own face as he remembered it, mostly because he had been more confused than anything. It had been eight months before he had made sense of the Sorting hat's comments, especially considering that from the song that had been sung he was fairly certain he'd end up in Ravenclaw. The Hat had other suggestions and he didn't think to argue with it, though sometimes he wished he had. Slytherin wasn't kind to a child who didn't have a sense of place in the world. Still, in the end, it had been for the better.

Dumbledore stood after the first years had been sorted and the hall quieted respectfully.

"Yes, well, welcome! We have somewhat of an unusual situation this year. I would like to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Nadine Moirae." He gestured at the staff table where a youngish woman with blond hair similar to that of Artemis' brother was sitting. "She brings along with her her two children, Artemis and Apollo. As well, we have yet another new student, Lucas Hunter. I would ask you stay still just awhile longer while they are sorted," Dumbledore said, nodding to McGonagall.

"Hunter, Lucas!"

Tom nearly started as he realized that Lucas was very much him, but casually went to the stage and after sitting on the stool placed the Sorting Hat on his head. He even managed not to take a deep breath, though he wanted to if only to help calm his nerves.

"Hmm...what do we have here? You're not of the name that was called, are you? A protection is it? How interesting...now, now, on with the Sorting, Tom Riddle."

Tom refrained from snapping at the hat that he wasn't the one delaying the process, but just barely.

"Slytherin once, were you? Weren't very fond of them...or was it the other way around? Doesn't matter, I suppose. Different times, different ways now. Quite a mind on you, but as I said once, you would not be happy in Ravenclaw. Knowledge is not enough for you. Brave, certainly, but I wouldn't consider you noble...not at all. Hard-working and loyal, but your loyalty...you wouldn't fit in Hufflepuff. Hmm...I stand by my original decision then...yes, you belong in SLYTHERIN!"

Slytherin again, then. Not that he had really expected any different, exactly. After all, if anything he had become more Slytherin as he grew, not less. Still, he was not looking forward to dealing with Snape on a regular basis. There were a surprised look or two as he went to the Slytherin table, most likely because he had been seen talking with Harry Potter, Gryffindor Golden Boy less than half an hour earlier. Draco welcomed him, however, moving over to clear him a space as Apollo was called up for his sorting. The Hat lingered again, finally declaring Hufflepuff with confidence and the Hufflepuffs, whom had looked somber throughout the entire sorting, welcomed him as well as they could in their mood. Then it was Artemis' turn. The hat was on her head less than ten seconds before declaring Slytherin, which seemed to please her greatly, as she looked not unlike a cat who had finally caught the canary. Though given Artemis' dislike for cats, and the fact she was more like a bird than a cat anyway, Tom thought it better not to make the analogy.

Dumbledore stood again, stated a word or two, and enough food to feed an army, or at least a group of teenagers, appeared on the table. The students around him grabbed greedily, as if they hadn't been fed in days, and Tom waited until the tangle of hands and elbows receded before filling his plate and slowly starting on his food. If there was one thing he always appreciated it was good food, and good food was meant to be eaten slowly, so you could taste it, as far as he was concerned. He glanced across the hall, searching out Harry and finding him in a mess of red, a sole brunette - that was Granger, of course - sitting next to him. Tom didn't remember the Weasleys very well, except that they had been there, they had red hair, and they had been Gryffindors; apparently red hair and being Gryffindors ran in the family.

Harry was just barely picking at his food, taking a bite only as Granger looked at him and stopping once Granger looked away. Tom frowned, conveying his anger through the bond. Harry put his shields up - he had finally discovered how to block and unblock, though he couldn't consciously send certain emotions through, in the last few days -- and glared at him from across the hall. The message was clear: back off. Tom resisted the desire to go over there and make certain Harry ate, deciding instead to corner the boy about it later, using Granger as leverage. After all, however bad he might be about it, Granger could actually watch Harry's every move and, from the looks of it, would if Tom happened to inform her that Harry wasn't taking care of himself. It was blackmail, but it was for a good cause at least.

Granger looked at Harry again, and asked him something that made him shake his head. She shook her head back, gesturing to the plate. Harry replied. She pointed to Ginny as Harry squirmed. The next thing she said caused a jolt of nervousness to go through Harry, strong enough that Tom could feel it around the shield. Then she looked over at the Slytherin table, searching him out, and making another little hand gesture. Oh, damn, she was questioning Harry about him. This couldn't be good, not if she was half as bright as Harry seemed to think she was. Tom glanced down at his plate, ignoring her gaze. Damn it, knowing his luck Harry'd tell her as much as he could without actually violating the pact and she'd put the rest together. He didn't need this.

Tom's attention was dragged away from his plate and worrying about Granger when a Slytherin boy with dark red hair asked him why he was here and if he had been expelled from another school. The lies Tom had easily memorized came to him, and Tom explained that he had been tutored but the tutor was retiring and his parents had decided that he should go to a 'proper' school. The explanation went over well enough, with someone suggesting he should have convinced his parents to send him to Durmstrang instead. Someone asked a question about the family business ventures, which Tom could only answer thanks to Artemis. Overall, the conversation was a success. It helped his nerves that every time Tom looked back up at Harry the other boy was engaged in conversation with Weasley and Granger, or rather mostly watching the two of them bicker about something. He needed to talk to Harry about this as soon as he could manage it.

Malfoy was quiet, something Tom had yet to see him be, for most of the dinner, occasionally making a comment about Quidditch or someone Tom had yet to meet. He seemed uncomfortable, though Tom wasn't certain about what except that a pug-faced girl named Pansy Parkinson kept glaring at him. The girl was glaring at Artemis as well, who didn't seem bothered by it at all. He filed it away as possible that Malfoy and Parkinson were dating and decided to find out if that was the only thing causing the tension between Malfoy and other members of the house. Somehow he doubted it. Draco acted like someone who was trying to emulate an adult, all false bravado and overconfidence. His...would it be Great Uncle? Augustus Malfoy had suffered from the same attitude. However, at dinner this attitude had disappeared to be replaced by a general sullenness, even though others, most notably two very large boys on either side of Pansy, kept looking at him for directions. There had been a power shift recently, Tom figured, something he might be able to exploit if necessary but could probably leave to its own devices. Trying to take power in the Slytherin house was a tricky thing and his connection with Harry would only make it more difficult.

The feast ended as he was picking at his desert and Dumbledore made the necessary comments about things forbidden or off-limits before he cleared his throat, obviously about to start a longer speech. Harry had warned him about this, that Dumbledore was most likely going to give a speech on the return of Voldemort as was expected from him. Harry, however, hadn't quite understood why Tom had ended up shaking in laughter at the thought, and a simple 'how ironic' hadn't really been enough to explain it. It didn't matter truly, as Harry had merely grinned, shook his head, and went back to trying to cast a rather complicated conjuring charm. Tom had found this amusing as well and shown Harry how it was supposed to be done, using Harry's clothing, and therefore the lack thereof, as his focus. Harry had blushed like mad most of the time but not having clothing was the proper motivation for learning how to conjure things in direct relation to the body, which had been the entire point. Tom smiled over the memory.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and Tom suddenly remembered he was supposed to look somber, or at the very least serious, so he let his smile drop.

"Today marks the beginning of a new year and with it new choices must be made. There are those of you who are missing fellow classmates or students, removed from this school out of fear or rebellion. There are those of you missing parents or siblings that were with you mere months ago. There are those of you who have been attacked. What I fear has come to pass: Voldemort had risen again and taken hold in our lives."

Hushed whispers and scared murmurs spread throughout the Great Hall like a plague, taking one victim before claiming another. The Slytherins remained in stoic silence, refusing to sensationalize what had happened to Lucius Malfoy and hurt one of their own. Tom frowned. What Dumbledore was saying wasn't, strictly speaking, true, which was good for him, of course. Still, there was little reason to panic the other students. Well, at least this wasn't a reason Tom could particularly support.

"However, hope is not lost. Not so long as we have the ability to make our own choices. These choices will not always be easy, but truth is rarely easy to find. In the time from now you will be asked a great many things, things you may or may not be willing to do, things you may or may not have a choice in, but I have faith that you will all face it with the strength and courage I know you are all capable of."

A few of the Slytherins sneered.

"Above all, you must trust in your fellow man and in your fellow student. Someone once said that we are only as strong as we are united and I believe this to be true. If we divide now, in this questioning time, the split will be great and may very well destroy us. I hope you will learn from your parents' mistakes so that you do not need to make your own, but ultimately the choice is yours. And no one has a right to impede on that, try as they may."

Dumbledore shook his head then, looking so much older than Tom remembered him to be, frail and worn in a way which the younger Dumbledore had never been. Tom remembered something that Dumbledore had told him once, that he really hadn't been listening to at the time but had put away for later and used it then. Dumbledore had said that in the end Death takes all of us, and one is lucky if Age is Death's conspirator. Age was killing Albus Dumbledore now, not him, and Tom had been granted another life, a second set of years. This struck him as hysterically funny at once. It was a final sort of 'sod off' straight from Voldemort to Dumbledore; a cosmic irony that though he wanted him dead to further his plans, Voldemort wouldn't get the chance to kill the old man at all. Tom had a hard time not grinning.

His eyes met Harry's then and he couldn't help it, he smiled. Harry looked surprised but offered a weak smile back before turning back to the staff table.

"Now, the hour grows late. Let us sing the school song and then retire."

After the song was sung, and it took forever thanks to two red-headed Gryffindor twins who could only be Weasleys, the students broke up in little groups, clinging to each to discuss what had been said today. Tom found this funny as well and commented on how everyone was being so isolated in their supposed unity to Draco and Artemis. Draco had taken one look around the room and replied that 'these idiots wouldn't know togetherness if they were tied to each other with a bloody rope' before moving his way through the crowd in a way that only a stature as small as his would allow.

* * *

The Slytherin Common Room was dim, as both the black and the dark green absorbed the light from the hearth instead of reflecting it. Otherwise the room was more or less warm and felt almost cozy. As much as something so pretentious could feel cozy, at least. The completely awed looks on the first years' faces, from the second they set eyes on Hogwarts until now, was providing some entertainment as well. Tom didn't bother looking awed because he could always pass it off as something he had seen before, which was true both strictly speaking - he'd been there two weeks in this form - and factually true, as he'd spent years in this room. The room hadn't changed much in fifty years, really.

The other years were catching up with their friends, lounging around the common room and chattering away. The first night was always the loudest, the way Tom remembered it, save for the night of the last Quidditch match of the year. The first years trailed away, to be welcomed by the Head of House, unpack, and then turn in early as they were only eleven years old. The thought of Snape made Tom want to scowl but he managed to keep a blank, vaguely amused face. He couldn't afford to have a Head of House that hated him and thus he was determined to be as pleasant to the man as possible, even if Snape made it very, very difficult. Tom had experience with difficult.

He sat down in one of the large armchairs, vaguely considering summoning a book from his things but deciding against it in the end; he should appear somewhat social, after all. Instead he made small talk with those around him, including the auburn-haired boy who turned out to be a sixth-year Prefect named D'Arcy Spelthorne and a fifth year, dark-featured girl named Blaise Zabini.

Tom quietly attempted to discover exactly how the current power structure worked. It turned out that Draco had had a falling out with some of the fifth years and they were now looking for a new speaker - someone who would represent the group as a whole - as Draco had been there's up until today. D'Arcy was the sixth year speaker and suspected Blaise would be the next one for the fifth years, as she was the most neutral of the group and therefore everyone would agree on her. Personally Tom would have selected someone less neutral, and therefore more useful as a distraction, but apparently Slytherin had mellowed somewhat since the time he'd attended before.

He was considering this when Professor Snape stalked back into the room, having finished giving a speech to the first years. Immediately the entire room fell quiet. Tom was impressed; his previous Head of House hadn't the strength of character to really control the Slytherins in his old time, even though he had often left the younger years terrified. Terror only worked so well in a pit of Slytherins, something like animals really, as when you cornered them they tended to get more and more vicious until it didn't matter that they were frightened because they had sharp teeth and claws either way. It was somewhat ironic that for someone like himself, who didn't get along with animals all that well, he often compared people to them. Not just animals really, but predators. Then again, Tom could relate to predators just fine. He shook himself out of the thought and went back to watching Snape. The professor had a presence that demanded attention and inspired obedience, and Tom was certain it could have inspired adoration if the man was interested in such; it was truly the perfect combination for a competent Head of Slytherin.

Snape stood at what had rearranged itself into the front of the room, at least as far as the students were concerned, and seemed to be surveying the crowd. His black eyes glittered when they paused on Tom and softened when Draco entered his sight, but no comments were forth-coming. Finally, after half a minute of silence, Snape began to speak in a low, even tone.

"Dumbledore spoke today on how it is the choices that make us who we are. And soon choices will be made, either by you, or for you. I would suggest you come to your decisions quickly so that the choices aren't taken out of your hands. I do not suggest what you choose, because I cannot give you that answer. No one can. If you suspect someone should, then you are not fit to be in control of your own situation, and then you are right. They should.

"I hope that you will make informed, intelligent decisions, though that is likely far too much to ask of teenagers. It was certainly too much to hope of most when I was your age and I see no reason to believe that has changed." Snape paused, a hand fidgeting with the buttons on his left sleeve. No, not fidgeting -- undoing. "You are all still, effectively, children, even the oldest of you, and this is an adult situation. That will not stop these things from happening. The world does not care if you are old enough or smart enough or strong enough to deal with this. Therefore, I hope I have helped prepare you just the slightest bit. I can not offer you the answers, and likely I will be incapable of giving you peace of mind, but I can offer you the benefit of my experiences. Not to learn just from my mistakes but from my successes as well."

Snape sneered but it was more of a reflex gesture than one having any actual anger behind it. His right hand went to his left sleeve again and he rolled it up carefully until it rested at the curve right above his elbow. A number of the younger years gasped; Draco cringed, Parkinson looked pleased, and the older years, for the most part, did not look shocked so much as slightly subdued. Tom had the striking urge to go up and examine the mark but knew that would look odd so he restrained himself. Then there was the fact that Snape just might hex him and he could get in trouble for hexing a professor back.

"As you all undoubtedly recognize, this is the Dark Mark, a symbol of the followers of Voldemort. Those of you who were enterprising about discovering my personal life already know that once the Dark Lord fell I was cleared from the charges brought on me under the grounds of being a spy for Albus Dumbledore. I was one of two of my group to survive that year intact and sane." Snape frowned, a distant look on his face as if he was in that year now instead of the present day. After a moment he shook himself out of it and continued. "The winter I was sixteen I willingly and knowingly received this mark. Not only myself but the five people I was closest to, my fellow Slytherins, my best friends. But I was under very little illusion. I chose this path for myself and I do not regret it."

Tom saw a jolt of surprise wash over the faces around him. Draco pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs, rocking ever-so-slightly. Artemis looked interested, in the way one might examine a bug, but that was how she looked at most people. Tom kept his own face neutral without being hard.

"Did you expect me to say that it was the biggest mistake of my life? No, even if it had been I am not in the habit of regretting choices I consciously made. At that time in my life it was by far the best of my choices. I weighed it carefully and knew the possible consequences. More importantly, I created a situation that would give me an out if my world collapsed around me. So, while two of my friends died, I lived. While another two were banished to Azkaban and driven insane, I survived. The last is out here with me, but he holds his regrets tightly to him, his guilt suffocates him, and he ran groveling back to Voldemort like the lapdog he was forced into being."

Snape sneered again, this time in actual anger, anger at the image of his friend cowering at the feet of someone like a kicked animal, Tom supposed. Tom didn't blame him.

"I am still under no illusions. I know that I am a traitor to the cause I once supported, I know that my death would bring satisfaction to some - on both sides of this conflict - but I do not regret that either. I am my choices and I will live with them. I will survive. I did the best I could for myself and for my friends and now I do the best I can for you. I cannot control the choices you make, I can not tell you which thing to choose, and I have no interest in doing so. Either side will bring pain and pleasure, thus is life. Do not let yourself or those you hold dear be deluded. I have seen unstable beliefs come crashing around the heads of the believers and it is not a pretty sight. Protect yourself from that, if you can."

He rolled his sleeve back down, redoing each button with quick but casual fingering. Not attempting to hide in shame but in necessity.

"That is the only advice I have on the matter. However, if you are interested in the more mundane details I would be willing to entertain questions about my time as a Death Eater and as a spy for Dumbledore." He glared at Tom balefully for a moment as his gaze swept the room. Tom had the feeling that the invitation didn't extend to him. "If there is nothing else you need at the moment, you do have classes in the morning and I will not help you if you are late."

The crowd broke up quietly, most of the students wandering away. Snape turned and stalked out of the room. The action propelled Draco into movement as he untangled himself and trailed after the older man, looking as if he was attempting to gain the courage to speak. Tom watched after them for a moment before turning away in search of the dorm he was going to be sleeping in. He really should have asked Draco which room the fifth year boys were in earlier. Belatedly Tom realized he still wasn't certain why Snape had actually left the Death Eaters for Dumbledore. Maybe he'd take up Snape's offer for information, after all.