Compos Mentis: "In Control of the Mind"
18th August 1938, Albus Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and
Wizardry
The Transfiguration Professor's Office was quite unlike any other room at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For one, the excessively large desk right in the middle of the office was piled high with stacks of thick parchment. This method of filing work didn't seem to have the desired results because the half open window had caused some stray papers to fly lazily around the room, giving the room a slightly chaotic feel. A variety of small, spindly tables were scattered throughout the rest of the room, each one holding up a different delicate looking silver instrument. This office was the only room in Hogwarts to not have a portrait hanging on the wall, instead the walls, from top to bottom, were covered entirely in books.
However it was not these things that made the office so different from the rest of the school, it was, perhaps, the oddly dressed man who sat at the desk. Dressed in a deep plum velvet suit, his light blue eyes and auburn hair made a startling contrast. Albus Dumbledore was perched on his desk chair, his entwined fingers holding up his head. In front of him lay a yellowing piece of parchment with a list of names written down the side of it. His eyes had been gazing at one particular name for the last few minutes, an unreadable expression playing on his face as he did so.
Tom Marvolo Riddle
Earlier that day he had made a routine journey to visit a prospective first year student, expecting only to brightly explain what magic was, do a few tricks, and then organize a date to accompany the student to Diagon Alley. Instead what he had found was an oddly unreadable eleven-year-old boy. Having lived many years, and therefore meeting many people Albus Dumbledore had no trouble reading the boy, he was merely surprised at the child's awareness of his emotions. The boy had swung between glee at the thought of magic, and a cold, defensive face at the mention of his normality.
It was the boys' volatile mood swings that had caused him to sit here for the past few hours thinking about the boy. It was the fact that Tom Riddle, at such a young age, had figured out that he had some sort of control over his magic, even when he was unaware that magic existed. Further still, the boy had used his abilities to install fear into his fellow students.
He frowned at the parchment in front of him; he had searched for a record of any 'Riddle' attending Hogwarts and had failed miserably. The woman at the Orphanage, Mrs. Cole, had informed him that Tom was named after his father, but she had little information on his mother. If Tom's father was a muggle, his mother must have been a witch. The only reason he was sure of this was because, in an attempt to impress him, Tom had informed him that he had the ability to speak with snakes.
Tom's ability to speak parseltongue had affected him much more than he let Tom know. He hadn't wanted to boy to know how rare it was to have that ability, or what it meant to be able to speak it. The problem was, with no way to track down who his mother was, Albus could never be sure over the boy's heritage.
Sighing deeply he reached forward to the glass dish of sweets on his desk and popped a sherbet lemon in his mouth. Sucking the sweet idly he tried to return his thoughts to the upcoming welcoming feast, but it proved difficult. He simply couldn't shake the image of Tom's guiltless demeanor as he reprimanded the child for something that would have made any other boy cower in fear.
As the burnt colours of the sunset streamed into his office, Albus Dumbledore felt his age. The Wizarding World had been at peace for too long now, he could feel something brewing in the distance. Waving his hand to shut his drapes, Albus Dumbledore vowed to himself that he would not repeat his mistakes of the past; he would keep an eye on Tom Riddle at all times.