(A/N) Here's the next chapter. I went back and changed some things in the other chapters, so if you've been reading all along, you might get confused. If not, then carry on and pay this message no heed. Also, this is all from Tom's point of view, so... Enjoy!

Chapter Seven

He had been sitting there last night at the Opening Feast, silently chewing his mashed potatoes and drowning out the other Slytherins' useless babble. He had been savoring the richness of the food, comparing it to the gruel they served at the orphanage. He hated the place. Every summer, he was forced to return to the shabby building where everyone thought he was troubled or had special needs. His grip on the spoon tightened, smirking to himself. If only they knew.

Tom had been lost in his thoughts until Malfoy stopped talking, catching his attention. Abraxas Malfoy barely ever stopped talking about himself, and there was always some bimbo there to listen to him. He was quite popular with the ladies, another thing that he would not ever cease boasting about. He wasn't all too bad looking, either. Just not anything to compare with Tom's features.

Abraxas was staring at the doors of the Great Hall. Tom followed his gaze to a frizzy haired young woman covered with blood and dirt who was standing at the entrance to the Great Hall and staring at everything in confusion and wonder. His eyebrows rose involuntarily in surprise. She was wearing pants that were much tighter than any he'd seen on a female before, her jumper barely reaching her waistband.

Even more shockingly, she strutted towards the teachers' table with utmost confidence, unusual for someone with such a displeasing appearance, and began to talk to the Transfiguration teacher as if she knew him. They then left the hall, leaving all the students watching in bewilderment.

Tom reached for a dinner roll, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Within seconds, Abraxas was talking again.

_..o0O0o.._

Tom awoke the next morning feeling quite calm. Right away, he could tell it was going to be a good first day. He patrolled the hallways for a while as part of his Head Boy duties before heading to breakfast. He took his usual spot in the middle of the Slytherin table, surrounded by people he liked to think of as his followers. They weren't friends, heavens no (friendship and love made a person weak, after all), but adherents. Yes, adherents seemed like the perfect term.

Tom watched them boredly, indifferent to their childish antics. Nott and Lestrange were sitting to his left and right sides, respectively; Avery, Mulciber, and Dolohov adjacent.

They talked of their classes and of the Gryffindors they would have to endure for one more year. They were all very smart, but in the typical Slytherin way: the only subjects they were any good at were Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, they had a sense of slyness: a sharp, cunning edge that had just barely convinced Tom to spend his precious time with them.

Malfoy and Alphard Black sat a little further along the table. Tom found their company displeasing, and they had previously voiced their disdain for "filthy halfbloods," like himself. Although, they had been punished for that particular incident quite severely. A cruel smile appeared on Tom's face at the memory. He doubted they would ever say that to his face again. Or, he hoped so, for their sake.

Malfoy was the loud one. He talked endlessly and thoughtlessly, oftentimes saying things he would later regret. He had a habit of combing his white-blond hair back, away from his large forehead and impossibly pointy nose. Girls fawned over his blue eyes and pure ancestry, wanting to be the one to help continue his spotless bloodline. Tom found him dreadfully annoying.

Black was the strong and silent type. He rarely ever spoke, which Tom thought was a blessing, as it prevented him from making a fool of himself. He wasn't very bright, but he boasted an enviable family tree and wealth beyond measure. What he lacked in brains, he made up in brawn. He rippled with muscle, which would have been a considerable advantage if he could think fast enough to throw a punch before an opponent simply walked away.

The two had made it their life's goal to ridicule and belittle anyone who wasn't a pureblood. As Tom took a swig of pumpkin juice, he heard them arguing for what must have been the umpteenth billionth time over whose blood was purer. He had half a mind to spill their blood onto the floor so that they could compare it.

He was thinking of a dozen or so spells that would do the trick when the doors to the Great Hall opened. The Gryffindor gang walked in, late as usual. This time, however, the strange girl from before was with them, cleaner than she had been, her hair still a birds' nest, clad in red and gold embroidered robes. Who is she?

After a few minutes of watching her meet other students, he found out. The headmaster stood up and introduced her as a new seventh year. Hermany Granjur? She had come to Hogwarts from France because of the wars. Tom set his jaw. Grindelwald was running rampant there, not to mention the Muggle war. He almost felt bad for her, but quickly shook it off. Pity was also a weakness.

After breakfast, he decided to get to his class early, wanting to make a good first impression. On his way out, he passed the new girl. For a second, his eyes locked with her brown ones. She was quite plain, he noticed. Brown bushy hair, brown eyes, and a pale face. Nothing extraordinarily beautiful.

With that thought, he walked off towards class.

(A/N) Isn't that disappointing? I love writing from Tom's point of view. It seems to fit me more. Is that wrong? D: