Heir of Slytherin: Rising

Please review! This really is a good story.

sjauthor: Thanks for the review. The Hufflepuff badger won for a reason. It doesn't mean the girl in this story will win over a struggle with Tom. It means something else...it has to do with Riddle losing out on feeling part of a Pureblood family. He resents Sarah's Pureblood Smith line and those of his followers. And that is what I show in this tale.


CHAPTER ONE: THE HEIR’S REVELATIONS


It wasn’t long after breakfast that Tom Riddle had to make his way to the Divination tower. He wasn’t looking forward to going to the sequestered space in the castle. Since last term, Divination had become his least favorite subject. Even worse than Muggle Studies which he secretly abhorred. But he didn’t know how starting today all of this was about to change….

A slither of light was visible from the only window at the top of the tower. A woman emerged from it, humbly descending the stairs. Somehow her presence seemed to destroy the morning light, replacing it with her own dazzling brilliance.

She past walls covered in ivy and willow, until she came to her classroom. The classroom looked more like a nature room, currently filled with pungent exotic flowers.

“So much change is evident in the illusion we call the world,” the woman said freely. She smiled down at the thirty young faces glancing up at her expectantly.

Professor Persephone Isabell Pettigrew wore shining dark green, almost obsidian coloured robes. Her skin was sallow as she rarely ventured outside. She had startlingly gray eyes that could go from light to dark looks very easily, and long raven hair. It was rather unusual to see a witch in her fifties wear her hair all the way down her back. Persephone had once been a radiant beauty, noble and unusually wise in her youth. Throughout her dark and somewhat mysterious past she maintained her slender frame, yet her gorgeous looks were now faded with age.

The Divination teacher went on with her odd, but somehow, jarringly perceptive comments, “In all of you I can see change faster than the tides of the moon. Speaking of the moon, do any of you know from your Astronomy class what phase we’re presently in?”

Riddle hesitated. He’d rather not engage the professor. He had already spent all last term developing opinions on the woman. It was rare, but he found he had hardly respected this professor for her knowledge, unlike all his other teachers.

He didn’t have to answer. A Ravenclaw spoke up. “The moon is in first quarter and waxing, professor!”

“Correct. A point to Ravenclaw!” Professor Pettigrew waved her hands congratulating the Ravenclaw boy, her black polished fingernails flashing.

The Ravenclaw smiled pompously. Tom didn’t look, too intent upon staring at the covers of his other texts. He wondered why he’d wasted time signing up for Divination last year. He thought on what a mistake it had been.

Professor Pettigrew gathered herself. “Yes. It is indeed an important time in all of your lives. Of course you are prepubescent adolescents!” She laughed gaily. Tom felt his cheeks colour and he swept the room, as if daring anyone to look his way. Nobody did, of course.

“But I mean much more. Of course, when the moon waxes, unconscious thoughts, even memories are brought to light. Manifesting through dreams when the moon is visible in the skies.”

The class nodded dully. It was still too early in the morning.

“But enough. Last term we examined dream interpretation and palmistry. This is a new term, I hope all of you had a good holiday, but we must get back to the grindstone.

“Necromancy….The art of protection from spirits. But spirits also explain the origin of trance. We will not be practising Necromancy. It is a much too dangerous subject to train amateurs in. If you are born as a seer with the gift, well then…That is another matter altogether.”

Tom Riddle rolled his dark eyes. ‘Seers!’ he scoffed to himself mentally. He’d spent all last term inside this over-perfumed room hearing Professor Pettigrew explain both the pitfalls and merits to being a Seer! It all had sounded like a load of rubbish to him. Unlike all his other classes, this was the only one he hadn’t read ahead in.

“Yes,….Necromancy,” Professor Pettigrew droned on. “Necromancy is directly related to higher powers and thus can explain the creation of prophecies.”

Tom suppressed a shudder. It sounded like Professor Pettigrew was practically talking of raising the dead. This frightened him and he felt his instincts for skepticism kick in. He raised his hand.

“Yes? What is our ‘Doubting Thomas going to refute today?”

There was a slight sound of laughter and talk in the class. Riddle only just barely suppressed flinching irritably at the common sound of his name, and worse said wrongly. He shifted where he was slouching on a velvet pouf in the back. Straightening himself and the tie under his black robes he corrected stiffly, “Tom. Just Tom…”

“Yes, Tom…” she said boredly.

Riddle felt a twinge of anger at her regard for him, but shook it off and he went on with his argument, “Might I ask where is the evidence prophecies exist? How can we claim them as real unless they are proven, and that is, proven prior to hindsight?”

“Real prophecies exist, Mr. Riddle. Classified intelligence catalogued by the Ministry of Magic. And yes, many were fulfilled throughout the ages….And some of them not. Those remain uncharted territory.”

Tom felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. He didn’t like this sensation at all, or worse what the mad professor was implying to him.

The class went back to its usual stupor within five minutes after the exciting subject of prophecy. Riddle continuously daydreamed about other classes and other matters, including many of his darkest fantasies, consisting of his most secretive fears.

“For homework….Memorize the first ten of ‘The World’s Most Infamous Prophecies’ on page 15. And explain the ramifications they hold for Wizards….This will be on th! quiz!”

Tom made a mental note in his head. He didn’t rush off for Ancient Runes like he normally did after Divination. Patiently, he lagged behind whilst everyone left. Even after the silly girls were gone Riddle was still there. Those were the silly girls who believed Professor Pettigrew’s subject whole-heartedly and hung onto her every word.

Professor Pettigrew raised a thinly slanted brow and squinted, “Is there a question?”

Riddle came closer, and spoke nearly in a whisper; “I wanted to know if you knew…what makes a Seer.”

“Well, Mr. Riddle….I’m afraid Seers are born. Not made. Why ever would you ask? You seem not to be uninterested in my subject, I’m afraid.”

Tom didn’t answer. He turned away to leave when he was stopped by the professor’s polite interrogation. “May I ask why you’re interested?”

Riddle turned around, his handsome face morphing into doubt again. He spoke carefully. “Today, you told me there are real prophecies, professor. You implied this is proven fact in the foundation of magical law…Is this the truth or…is it not?”

The woman nodded, but while her face had been gay before, there was something about this boy’s pondering that made her smile falter to a grim frown.

Riddle asked, “Then what happens to those who are the subject of prophecies? Does the ministry inform them?”

“Their families are informed at once. However, such knowledge is not released to the public until the child turns seventeen. By law, the Unspeakables cannot release the information until they are of age. Why?”

“Nothing,” he almost hissed in a sneer. Scoffing to himself he turned away. He hated to think of himself as a child. Riddle felt hope, turning into certainty that there must be a prophecy pertaining to himself. It would all make sense, having no family, nobody could have told Tom Riddle he was destined for greatness. He must discover for himself what it might mean for his future. And also, there were many other things he needed to learn. But first, he had to know of his roots….


*


Tom Riddle strode down an outdoor corridor, crossing a bridge, his steps brisk. The bleak January sun hung low in the mid-afternoon sky, yet Riddle hardly registered anything but himself. He was in a hurry to get to the library before dinner.

He paid no attention to passerby’s, too intent upon his personal goals. His hand clutched the handle of a faded leather briefcase, full of his books and schoolwork. Last summer, during his annual stay at the orphanage, Tom shoplifted the item from a store, using his powers to do it. Nobody had even known a boy was in the shop, nor had anyone seen the goods go missing. He was quite used to stealing all his life. It meant little to him. But presently his mind was intent upon something much more interesting than petty thievery.

He recalled his Herbology professor’s reminder. Soon Riddle would be starting his study in a special, accelerated program. Tom was eager to learn new magical skills.

He could still hear the Herbology teacher call after him, “Tom…I shall see you this Friday afternoon with my Junior Healers.”

Tom assented his agreement ardently. He would be there.

And the Herbology teacher had even mentioned his time-turner, saying it would be very useful, and not just for the full course load Riddle was already enrolled in at Hogwarts. In addition, the professor had told Tom his participation in the Healer's Program would require much time and effort and he might need to use his Time Turner more frequently.

“What is the first thing the doctors teach sir?” He’d asked just minutes ago.

“Doctors?… Healer’s Mr.Riddle!” at this slight admonishment Riddle frowned. He hated to be reminded, even indirectly of his muggle upbringing and the occasional slip of the tongue it brought. “The first subject covered is Alchemy, Mr. Riddle. Of course one could spend several lifetimes studying Alchemy and never master it. It'll be just the theory, mind you. But a very advanced magical theory it is, especially ambitious for a Third Year…”

Tom had sensed the doubt in the Professor’s tone. Riddle did not like to hear it. But he would soon prove everyone wrong.

“I must be off…My Choir meets today…” With a friendly wave the professor left Tom alone in the greenhouse.

And with his final class of Herbology out of the way, this left Riddle for time in the library.


Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review. Both professors play a big part in this story. I am making her surname Pettigrew, because she is a Pureblood related closely to both Neville and Wormtail! Neither is Persephone like Trelawney, she is very different and a true seer, not acting as a fraud. And Riddle is very engaging and fascinating in this story, but I assure you, he will be astoundingly evil for a 14-year-old!