Every compartment in the Hogwarts train was packed with the exuberant students. Loud chatter, train whistles and laughter filled the airs, magic sparked and escapee chocolate frogs leaped under their feet. The trolley witch who strolled up and down the aisles. In the last train section, there was one particular compartment, not one any students dared disturb.

Where Tom Riddle reclined, a crinkly newspaper shifted in his comely fingers. His inky, undulating strands were pulled sleek across his forehead. His expression was a hard frown as his daunting black eyes traced the Daily Prophet’s plausible news.