For the Greater Good || Tom Riddle ||

Chapter One: The Hatstall

The year was 1943. The Hogwarts Express came to a screeching halt and puffs of dark smoke rose against the inky violet sky. Eager children desperately piled off of the train, smiling and enthusiastically whispering about the large gothic castle that loomed in the distance.

The first years gave anxious looks to one another as they were led toward small boats stationed at a murky lake. Chocolate frogs escaped from their pockets and hopped towards any horizon that wasn't a salivating mouth. The older students meandered slowly and purposefully toward the mysterious black carriages that were to carry them off towards the ancient school.

Finally, after the initial commotion of arriving at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry died down, a girl dressed in a heavy red cloak lined with fur made her way out of the last cabin of the train. She stepped off the steaming caboose with grace and ease, looking to the right and left of the now abandoned train station of Hogsmeade.

A ways off, a lone carriage sat underneath the arms of a tall tree and large spiny horse-like creatures were bridled to the buggy. Her eyes widened slightly, she had never seen such creatures in eastern Europe. Only Granians were used for transportation aside from the enchanted ship at Durmstrang, the occasional portkey, apparition, and broomsticks, for the Floo Powder network in the north was under much stricter surveillance due to the Muggle War.

She flinched as one of the beasts whinnied, barring its fanged teeth and flashing its silky black hair. Hesitantly, she climbed into the carriage.

The buggy moved along with a steady gait as the girl eased into her surroundings. She had impeccable posture and poise. Leather-bound books sat at her side along with a satin satchel filled with feather quills. The girl fiddled with a textured piece of paper in her pocket as she stared out of the carriage window, bewitched at the sight of the large stone castle.

It was her sixth year of schooling, and it was a year of significant change for Gwendolyn Gawmdrey. She would be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a foreign place filled with foreign people. It was to be her home for the next two years.

Gwendolyn was a talented witch, the top of her class at Durmstrang Institute, and was quite studious about all aspects of magic. She had spent her summer reading all about Hogwarts and the scandalous disagreements between the four founders of the school, the competition between the Houses, and the acceptance and enrollment of muggle-born students within its walls. She had found out many interesting things about the one thousand year old school that her curious nature screamed to investigate and seek. There was a lot to discover.

But as the carriage slowed to a stop and she took in the sweeping, dramatic architecture of the castle, she found that no matter how much reading and researching she did, it would take centuries to unlock all of the secrets Hogwarts possessed.

The carriage door flew open and it was now time for Gwendolyn to make her entrance. With shoulders set back and a firm mouth, she glided forward into the castle.

Immediately, Gwendolyn's eyes drifted toward the ceiling of a long room filled with dark wooden tables-the Great Hall. Candles floated in midair and the ceiling reflected the pitch black, star-laden sky outside. She briefly stopped in the middle of the room to take it all in. She had read all about this charm in "Hogwarts: A History."

Many students seemed to have already found spots to occupy at the assorted tables of deep green, dark blue, red, and canary yellow. Sparkling gold goblets were situated at the place settings, currently empty of drink. They were accompanied by golden saucers and silverware, plates and ladles; all of which were barren.

Whispers seemed to float up in the air as Gwendolyn walked across the long, narrow passageway that led to the congregation of first year students at the front of the room. She could feel her thick braid hit her back with every step she took. Only now  under the spell of self-consciousness did she become aware that the fur lining on her coat made her nose extremely itchy, but she didn't dare relieve herself of the pestering tickle.