The Dark Angel

Chapter Five:

“Sev… I mean, Professor?” Severus acknowledged him with a sound form his throat.

“We just passed the gargoyle.”

“Yes. The announcement of the results and the sorting will take place in the Great Hall. It’s right here.” Severus took a turning and stepped in the Hall through the great oaken doors which opened magically. Angel stared up at the enchanted ceiling, struggling to remind himself not to gape or run into Severus who was now taking his place at the table between Professor Figg and Samuel.

“Please stand behind the stool, Mr. Riddle, thank you. Minerva, please.”

Professor McGonagall rose and cleared her throat. “The results of the entrance exams of Mr. Angel Mordred Riddle are as follows.

Potions: A. Charms: A (Distinction), Transfiguration: A. Astronomy: A. History of Magic: B plus. Ancient Runes: A. Herbology: A. Defense against Dark Arts: B plus. Arithmancy: A, Care of Magical Creatures: A. Thus Mr. Angel Mordred Riddle passes the entrance exam and is considered a Hogwarts student. He will be attending Hogwarts in his fifth year, due to personal request.” The adults applauded shortly.

“Welcome to Hogwarts Mr. Riddle,” Dumbledore said merrily, “now will you please sit on the stool and put on the hat? It will decide what house suits you best.” Angel nodded and did as he was told.

He stiffened a bit when he heard a voice in his head.

‘ Hello Mr. Riddle. What a pleasure.’

‘ What the hell?’ Angel thought.

He heard the same weird voice chuckle. ‘ I’m the Sorting Hat Mr. Riddle. And you are the only one to hear me.’

‘Why?’

‘ Because I’m on your head and –in- your head too, currently. Now on with business. Let me see; the second Riddle to enter this school and the thirty ninth of Slytherin’s heirs. Your father, Tom, was quite a challenge and so are you; but you are a far more interesting one, I dare say… hmmm… your mind is racing, you are not helping me to focus….’

Angel was slightly irritated at the Hat talking so disrespectfully and indifferently about the fear of the entire wizarding world, his father.

‘ His name is Lord Voldemort, and keep your tongue, or what ever else you talk with, if you value your stitches,’ he thought so the Hat could hear.

The Hat chuckled in his head again, almost amiably. ‘Ah, you would do such a thing in a room-full of professors?’

‘Watch me do it, if you don’t believe,’ Angel retorted stubbornly.

‘I sense a great need to be loyal to a purpose,’

the hat said ignoring his threat completely, ‘a cause… ah… perhaps Hufflepuff would satisfy that need? … No no, of course not; not with the horror that has flooded your mind… how about Ravenclaw? But that House is too quiet for your tastes… and although you are intelligent enough, strong emotions can cloud your reasoning. … Ambitious quite a bit, but not as much as your father before… now you are becoming even harder to read than Harry Potter himself… yes, that is the one that you remind me…so similar, and yet so different…not the typical fighter but you will accept it openly if given a good cause…’

Angel swallowed, not liking to hear himself thus analyzed as if the hat was talking to itself. He wanted the Sorting to end quickly, and he did not appreciate any magical thing rummaging in his head- much less now that it had compared him with Harry Potter of all people. ‘Just put me were I belong, stupid thing, and QUICKY,’ he ordered the Hat, feeling that the House he belonged to was blaringly obvious…

And so he did not hear at first, when the hat said, ‘as you wish, Mr. Riddle, off you go to the house in which you belong, GRYFFINDOR!’

It was only the stunned silence that made him painfully focus and realize what had just happened. He got up, holding the Hat in his hand, and looked at the gaping Transfiguration professor. He guessed he would appreciate the scene, which had to be rare, if it was any other occasion; but he couldn’t even talk, feeling utterly helpless. A single sound of clapping echoed through the hall. Every head was turned toward the headmaster who was standing up and clapping his hands, smiling as if he had just eaten an especially tasty lemon drop.

“Congratulations, Mr. Riddle. And good luck in Gryffindor,” he said happily.

“Um…sir, I think…there must be a mistake. I’d like to…ask for a resorting perhaps?” Angel said.

“The sorting hat never makes a mistake, Angel. Besides, due to Hogwarts laws, you can’t change the results of a sorting ceremony. And there is no such a thing as a ‘resorting’ I’m afraid.”

“But …it’s impossible,” Professor Figg said, looking as if she was about to fall out of her chair. Nobody else looked any better, except Dumbledore of course.

“I’m afraid I don’t see your point, Arabella. Very well, Mr. Riddle, we will send you a letter with the list of the items you will need for your school, and also your ticket. Now why don’t you go walk around the castle or in the grounds? Hogwarts is a rather fascinating place.”

“But…” Angel said feeling miserable and angry at the same time, the Old Fool was playing with him. He looked from Dumbledore to Severus, then to Samuel. Severus was clutching his goblet in a white knuckled grip, as if trying to find a new way of breaking it. Otherwise, he looked as if the whole thing wasn’t stranger than owl post; he refused to meet Angel’s eyes though. Nott seemed calm, but paler than usual. None seemed about to help, and there was no room for arguments. He turned and walked out, forgetting to hold his chin up.

Albus watched the boy’s indignant face as he marched out of the Hall.

“If there is nothing else you need me with, headmaster,” Samuel Nott rose, preparing to leave, “there is some business I could take care of.”

Albus nodded, hoping the Governor wouldn’t dare to murder the child right inside Hogwarts.

“Albus you won’t let this happen, will you?” Minerva said when Nott was out of earshot.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with it.” Albus said, “I don’t think his father will appreciate it very much, but as long as I can say we aren’t responsible for Lord Voldemort’s feelings.”

“Feelings? Are you mad Albus?” Arabella said, looking absolutely disheveled.

“Well, that’s what I’m usually told.” Albus smiled amiably.

“Please be serious! Albus, I was unlucky enough to know his father. We were housemates and were in the same year too. I’m telling you Albus, the boy is a carbon copy of him.”

“I don’t think so Arabella. And honestly, if we call ourselves the light side, we must feel responsible for saving those we can. The boy is young and pure. He isn’t a completely hopeless case yet, and definitely isn’t responsible for his father’s deeds. Treating him like an explosive object and pulling stunts like what you did today will only help to give him actual proof of what he might have been told. This drives him further toward the dark. I trust you remember how his father was treated at that age because of his Muggle origin. It all resulted into him becoming more and more reserved and thus gave him reason to have a vindictive feeling toward the world; and lure into dark magic to prove himself and get his revenge.”

“Oh yes, we all owe an apology to the Dark Lord.” Arabella said sarcastically.

“We do from one aspect,” Albus said thoughtfully.

‘ All he wanted was acceptance and you deprived him from it just due to your stupid prejudices,’

The reprimanding voice of his mind said. He tried to banish the thought.

‘It was his own decisions too.’ he tried to sooth himself, but it somehow sounded lame, just as always.

He decided to continue the talk, if only to get rid of his guilt feeling. “Of course I don’t approve of Voldemort’s deeds, and don’t refuse the role of his own decisions. But I always ask myself whether all these disasters would have happened if he had been treated better.” Arabella remained silent and looked at her hands.

‘ All he wanted was acceptance. After that terrible childhood of his, Hogwarts was his last hope. You could have done something, but you didn’t. Instead you only threw the fact that he was a rejected child into his face, then stood aside for him to choose his own path.’

‘ I wouldn’t hesitate to help him if…’

‘ If what? You were waiting for a proud Slytherin to come and cry his feelings out in front of the Head of Gryffindor house? YOU were the adult. YOU had the experience. You should have forced him. You should have learnt how to help a Slytherin after all those years of teaching. You were a COWARD! Damn you Albus! You couldn’t do what Grindelwald could!’

Albus rubbed his forehead. “Eight thirty,” he announced as he got up to leave, “in my office. We may have questions that only a certain old Hat can answer.”

At half past eight, most of the Hogwarts staff was gathered at the Headmaster’s office.

“Now that everyone is present,” Dumbledore beamed at them all as he rose to fetch the old hat.

“I will never finish this year’s song at this rate,” It complained. Dumbledore only chuckled.

“Sorry, I assure we wouldn’t even think about disturbing you if it wasn’t really necessary.”

“I see,” the hat said with satisfaction, “I guess you want some information about Not-So-Young Mr. Riddle.”

“You are right, as always.”

“But I can’t.” Dumbledore smiled and said,“I respect your ethics, dear hat, but I assure you it is of utmost necessity.”

“Alright then,” the hat cleared his throat, “so you’d better listen carefully as I won’t repeat it.” Some of the professors, mainly Snape and McGonagall, seemed to be on the edge of ripping the hat into shreds, but Dumbledore seemed undisturbed.

“The boy is the second Riddle to enter this school, and one of the hardest ones I dare say, and the thirty ninth of Slytherin’s heirs. He was as much of a challenge as almost every one from that line, but was a far more interesting one than his father. Quite intelligent, I dare say, but not a typical Ravenclaw, too emotional for the wise eagles. He won’t be afraid of toil to reach his aim, and is loyal too, very loyal. It will be hard to turn him against his father, though he doesn’t really approve of his father’s ways- unconsciously. He doesn’t really know that much. It seems that Voldemort has kept it mostly to theory. He isn’t ambitious enough for Slytherin, but has the potential to lead. He has inherited his father’s determination and will power, but in other aspects, he is quite different. Almost stubborn, but accepts good reasoning. There was the potential for each of the houses in him, but the most outstanding one is courage, a LOT of courage. He has heard horrible things about aurors and thinks of them as Death Eaters’ hypocrite counterparts. He has witnessed Cruciatus just once, an auror; he didn’t feel too much pity for the man, but was quite disheveled. He sometimes thinks of you in a very interesting term, Albus. But you have gained some of his trust, if very little. And it might be interesting to you that he can’t speak Parsel Tongue, although he understands it. Insult his father if you want to make him really angry, I tried that myself. And…there is a great horror shadowing his past, though I don’t think he can remember it, due to a Memory Charm. I think I have told it all now, good night.” The hat went quiet.

“What kind of horror?” Dumbledore asked but the Hat made no reaction. The old man sighed and put it back in its place. “It seems that our old friend here won’t say another word.” He smiled at all those faces that looked at him with respect and would believe him and follow him in anything and flinched inwardly. “I’m happy he is in Gryffindor, they have proved to accept people easier than Slytherins.”

“We have to inform the Weasleys,” Minerva said quietly.

“You can write a letter to Arthur and Molly, and the Grangers too, and send it along with their school letters; but I’d like to write to Mr. Potter myself, probably first thing tomorrow. Now, if there are no questions, you can all retreat to your rooms. We all have much to think about.” He smiled at Minerva as she shut the door behind herself, then leaned back in his chair, concentrating hard to banish unwanted thoughts.

“I think a mug of hot chocolate would help,” he told the empty room and got up to head to the kitchens. That new house elf, Dobby, always knew a way to cheer him up.

*****************************

“Mr. Riddle.” Angel turned back to see Samuel in the corridor.

“Samuel?” he had too much on his mind to remember to keep up appearances, or care about it for that matter.

“I wanted to ask…” the man hesitated for a moment before continuing, “if you don’t mind me doing, of course, how did you do it?” Angel rose his eyebrows.

“Fooling the Hat I mean,” the Death Eater went on, “it was a really intelligent plan and you performed it excellent, I dare say. Very believable indeed.”

‘Damn!’ Angel narrowed his eyes and took a threatening step forward, “I think I do mind Nott. What gave you the impression that you could question me?” He asked in an irritated tone.

“I didn’t mean to question you,” the pale man answered quickly, “and didn’t think you would mind.”

“I didn’t know you could actually think at all, very pleasant revelation ,honestly. Now I think I have better things to do than standing here and chattering with you. I hope having two days out of the usual haven’t made you forget your position completely, or mine perhaps.” Angel took the satisfaction of both getting his anger out on someone and harassing the arrogant man at the same time.

“Not at all,” Samuel said, quite taken aback by his speech, “forgive me please.”

“I will consider that,” Angel glared at the man, feeling much better than before, “you can go now and prepare yourself. I think there will be a gathering tonight.” The Death Eater, half bowed, half nodded before turning and walking away quickly. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that Angel understood how true it was. There would certainly be a gathering tonight.

‘ Oh no!’ he thought worriedly, ‘ dad will want to spread the great news of me being in my ancestor’s house.’ He kicked the cobblestones angrily. ‘He will be disappointed.’

He wandered around the place for a long time, trying to get rid of his thoughts, and got lost several times. When at last he found his room, it was half past ten. He went in the room and threw himself on the bed; he didn’t understand when he fell to sleep.

“Wake up, NOW!” Somebody was shaking him violently.

“What’s wrong? Dad?”

The shaking stopped. A moment later the same voice talked again. “I’m not your father. I’m Severus Snape. It is almost twelve. We need to hurry.”

“Oh,” Angel woke up completely. “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Wait, drink this first.” Snape pushed a vial in his hands. Angel rose an eyebrow.

“It protects you against some curses, not Cruciatus, but it’s better than nothing.”

“And what curse, care say, I must be protected against?” the boy snapped.

“I don’t think your father,” Angel glared at him, who corrected himself irritably, “his lordship, will appreciate the Sorting result very much,”

‘oh hell!’ He had almost forgotten the matter after his sleep. “Maybe, but do you think he will torture me for that?”

Severus hesitated for a moment. “Probably not Cruciatus,” he said at last, “but if I were you, I would brace myself for some Not-So-Mild consequences.”

“You are NOT me Severus!” Angel said with irritation, starting to get nervous, “nor will you ever be. My position and yours aren’t even remotely similar. I definitely won’t face anything of the kind you have in mind; you, on the other hand, may if we don’t get going.”

“Then you have nothing to lose by ingesting that potion DO you, your highness?” Snape said, looking positively enraged. Angel decided he didn’t want to know just how far he could push the Potions Master. He decided to drink it while having the upper hand. You could never know what to expect from a Death Eater. He grimaced at the vile taste of the liquid and virtually threw the vial at Severus’ face. He ran after the Potions Master who was hard to keep up with; as he walked even faster than usual and kept turning and using secret passages from innocent looking entrances. They were just out on the grounds when Severus clutched his arm and hissed.

“Come on! Let’s hurry.” Angel said, pulling the man along toward the forest. He didn’t want anything nasty happen to the Professor, and it certainly would if they didn’t hurry; dad would be pissed off enough even without them being late. As soon as they reached the border of the anti-apparation field, Severus pushed up his left sleeve and touching his wand to the angry black Mark, he apparated them away.

To Be Continued…