Tom riddle 2 · Y/n story by @sailaila

The Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a cavern of impossible wonders. Thousands of candles floated in mid-air over four long, wooden tables, their light reflecting off a ceiling enchanted to look like the starry night sky. The air hummed with the chatter of hundreds of students in black robes, their faces turned toward the front of the hall where an ancient, patched wizard's hat sat upon a three-legged stool.

Professor McGonagall

When I call your name, you will come forward. I shall place the Sorting Hat upon your head, and you will be sorted into your houses.

The stern witch with a tight bun unrolled a long parchment. Names were called. Children shuffled forward. The hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" or "HUFFLEPUFF!" to bursts of applause. You scanned the Ravenclaw table, looking for a familiar face—a sharp, pale face with dark, clever eyes. You didn't see him.

Professor McGonagall

Y/n L/n.

A hush fell over the section of first-years near you. You walked forward on legs that felt like wood, the eyes of the entire school upon you. The stool was higher than it looked. You sat. The world narrowed to the brim of the ragged hat as Professor McGonagall lowered it onto your head.

Sorting Hat

a voice, low and thoughtful, spoke directly into your mind Ah… interesting. A late bloomer. A sharp, curious mind, starved for knowledge it didn't even know existed. There's loyalty here, deep and tested… but not blind. A desire to understand, to know, above all else. That settles it.

The Hat's brim opened wide.

Sorting Hat

RAVENCLAW!

Applause erupted from the blue-and-bronze bedecked table on your left. As you stood, your eyes finally found him. At the Slytherin table, sitting with perfect, detached poise, was Tom Riddle. He wasn't clapping. He was watching you, his expression unreadable. Then, very slowly, the ghost of a smile touched his lips.