Hogwarts: Chill, I’m Not That Tom Riddle

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There are no real secrets in the wizarding world—nothing ever disappears without leaving a trace.

Even something as hidden as a Horcrux can be unraveled and uncovered, layer by layer. Dumbledore had found them all, one by one.

Sixty years ago, the name Tom Riddle had shone brightly at Hogwarts—like a star. But thirty years ago, that same name became a dreaded whisper no one dared to speak aloud.

Back then, Dumbledore was the Transfiguration professor. Flitwick was already teaching Charms. Sprout and McGonagall hadn't yet joined the staff, but given their ties to Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, he'd surely have filled them in on the essentials.

And Snape—once Voldemort's most loyal servant, now his most bitter enemy—had made sure every detail had been investigated and documented.

As for Hagrid... the poor half-giant was trembling the most, his face pale as chalk.

He had been a student alongside Tom Riddle all those years ago. Naive as he was, he'd once thought Tom was a good person.

And he wasn't the only one who was rattled.

Professor Quirrell.

Quirrell, who had been trying to shrink into his robes under Snape's watchful eye, suddenly looked up—his eyes locked on Tom as he walked toward the Sorting Hat.

Snape didn't even notice that. His gaze was only filled with hate.

Not for this Tom. No—well, yes, but not quite. It was for another Tom.

"Severus,"

Dumbledore's lips barely moved. Only Snape could hear him.

"There are many people in the world who share a name. A name is just a label—it doesn't define the person. Don't let it cloud your judgment."

Tch.

Snape didn't reply. He just scoffed under his breath.

Did Dumbledore think he didn't know who he'd gone to fetch over the summer? He'd assumed the old man was bringing in Harry Potter himself—but no. He'd sent Hagrid.

And besides Harry Potter, the only person who could stir up this much interest from Dumbledore...

Was Tom Riddle.

Some of the smarter students started to pick up on the professors' strange reactions. The Great Hall slowly fell silent.

By the time Tom reached the stool, the room was dead quiet.

"Riddle. Just put the hat on," said Professor McGonagall, lips pressed tightly together. She never thought she'd get the chance to teach a Tom Riddle.

Tom gave a small nod, sat down, and lifted the hat.

He could swear on Merlin's silky tights that the Sorting Hat didn't even touch his head properly before it shrieked, like someone was choking it:

"SLYTHERIN! BORN TO BE IN SLYTHERIN!"

McGonagall blinked.

Snape frowned.

Dumbledore said nothing.

Tom... was stunned.

He stood there on the stool, blinking down at the sea of students craning their necks to look at him, his mind going completely blank.

How the hell did I end up in Slytherin?!

He wasn't pureblood. He wasn't even a half-blood. He had zero ambition for power.

So why on earth was he placed in Slytherin?

Was this some kind of twisted fate—Tom Riddle's curse?

In the studying space, Andros—who had been silently observing everything—was laughing so hard he nearly passed out. He knew exactly what Tom had planned, even had backup options prepared for ending up in Gryffindor...

But Slytherin? That wasn't in the plan.

Just as McGonagall opened her mouth to tell Tom to join his House table, the boy suddenly jammed the Sorting Hat back onto his head.

"We need to talk," he said firmly in his mind.

"Oh? What about?" the hat replied calmly. "Your Sorting is already complete, young wizard."

"You didn't even touch my head properly! You must've been echoing Harry Potter's result. He's the Boy Who Lived, last of the Potters—pureblooded. Of course he's a great fit for Slytherin."

Tom didn't care anymore. He threw Harry straight under the Bus.

"Wrong," the Sorting Hat snapped, now clearly annoyed. "Don't question my expertise, Riddle. I've never made a mistake. Ever."

"I may be old, but I'm sharp—and your result is Slytherin. No doubt about it."

"...."

"But that doesn't make any sense! There's nothing magical about this choice! Why the hell would I be in Slytherin?!"

He refused to accept it.

The hat picked up on his disbelief, its tone shifting into a gleeful hum:

"Let's see... an unbreakable ambition to be the strongest, a stubborn will that won't rest until goals are met, and—oh! Magic even more ancient and potent than Salazar's or Godric's..."

"If Salazar Slytherin were alive today, he'd be begging you to be his apprentice."

Tom clenched his jaw. He didn't remember applying for "Evil Sorcerer of the Year."

"You're slandering me, hat."

"Don't students get a say in their House? I strongly request to be put in Ravenclaw," he demanded.

"Request denied," the hat said cheerfully. "Now get a move on—I've got a line to get through. If you're really that upset, drop by Dumbledore's office later. I'll chat with you for a few Galleons."

"Fine, how about Hufflepuff? I'm Muggle-born, super friendly, love making friends—I'm practically the poster boy for Hufflepuff!" Tom tried desperately to sell himself.

There was a long pause.

Then the hat spoke again, this time soft and almost... gentle.

"Kid, you can have nothing in life—but never lose self-awareness. Please... take a long, honest look at who you really are, okay?"

"Stupid hat. One day, I swear, I'm stitching that mouth shut." Tom seethed.

The Sorting Hat clearly caught that lovely little thought and shouted—loud enough for the whole hall to hear:

"SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN! TOM RIDDLE BELONGS IN SLYTHERIN!"

Whatever Tom was going to say next was cut off as McGonagall swiftly removed the hat.

"Mr. Riddle, the Sorting is over. If you have any concerns, you may bring them up later."

Tom forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, gave her a polite nod, and crawled toward the Slytherin table.

No one clapped—at first. Everyone was still shell-shocked by him putting the hat back on like that.

Maybe he just wanted to make the moment last longer?

Some students whispered uncertainly.

It wasn't until Daphne Greengrass beamed at him and started clapping that the rest of the Slytherins joined in, hesitantly at first.

Tom took the opportunity to sit beside her.

"I honestly didn't think you'd end up in Slytherin," she whispered excitedly. "This is so great—now we can take classes together!"

"Yeah... I didn't think so either," Tom replied weakly.

A few more students were Sorted after him. The last was Blaise Zabini, who—naturally—also ended up in Slytherin.

Only then did Tom realize this was the same kid who had actually believed McGonagall's speech earlier and treated the whole school like his home.

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