Warnings: Hetero/homosexual relations, gore
Disclaimer: not mine
As Tom Marvolo Riddle stalked down Diagon Alley, exactly eight galleons, 4 sickles, and 6 knuts jingled in the pocket of his well-worn but presentable pants and a huge grimace marred his usually beautiful features. Despite having just received fantastic news four hours previously, even the fact that he'd be leaving the orphanage couldn't lift his mood. He'd just been kicked out of the third book store he'd found. It was understandable for the high-end Diagon Alley Bookshop to kick him out for reading everything and paying for nothing, but that greasy old man in Knocturn Alley had no business calling him a… Mudblood. He'd learned the term referred to people like his father a second before the owner had snatched the used book from his hand and thrown him out. Tom had kicked the door before leaving and it had left a satisfactory crack disproportionate to the sturdiness of the glass and muscle mass of the eleven year old boy. Tom knew he'd have to buy robes with the cinchy funds provided for him to fit in with the general population of Wizards, but more importantly he wanted-no needed- a wand.
The door to the wand store jingled as he walked in and Tom looked around with a sense of awe. He could feel the power resonating on another level throughout the room. An old looking man with mildly disturbing eyes walked out from behind rows and rows of old boxes. "Ah- a new customer," he said with a breathy voice and pulled out a tape measurer. "Which is your wand arm?" Tom held up his right hand more confidently than he felt. The magic he'd seen in the streets had fascinated him, but nothing had made him feel as ignorant as that room and man. He barely noticed the thing measure seemingly random body parts as he took in everything.
"I don't recall your parents, Muggle-born I presume?" At the boy's stony silence he continued unperturbed, "Oh no matter, no matter." The tape measurer closed with a snap and the man pulled out a box from the bottom of a towering pile. Amazingly enough it barely wobbled. Mr. Olivander would be a master jenga player. "Maple and Unicorn hair- six inches. Give it a wave if you would." Tom took the proffered piece of wood feeling dissatisfied. He whipped his hand down and the light above them exploded. "Maybe not," the old man said grabbing it away from him and seeming perfectly at ease with the defacement of his property.
Disaster accumulated and soon Tom began blocking out the old man's comments and waving each new wand mechanically. When he took out a case with two wands Tom simply grabbed the bigger one and flicked it to the side apathetically. From the tip of his wand a bright white spark emerged then stretched and spun until a dazzling display of colors whirled into a tornado like explosion that seemed to last for infinity and no time at all. The vortex disappeared abruptly and in its place stood a ruffled boy, looking around Tom's age. He wore slovenly clothes that swamped his rather emaciated frame, his dark hair was a chaotic mess, his mouth was open in an unseemly gape, and his eyes were hidden behind ugly cracked glasses.
Tom felt immediate contempt for the boy's pathetic visage, but schooled his sneer into a blank expression- there was no need to offend someone who, despite his appalling appearance, could be important. After all he was very new to this Wizarding World so perhaps it was completely normal for wands to create vortexes that brought random bedraggled boys. He glanced towards Olivander, whose eyes had grown impossibly wider, lips forming words, but not voicing them. Maybe not so normal. Tom looked back to the vortex-boy and blue eyes met green. No words were spoken and the tension mounted until a soft wheeze snapped the boy's eyes away, leaving Tom feeling oddly deserted. Having not noticed the small old man in their staring contest, the boy yelped in surprise and stumbled back, landing in a disgraceful heap on his back. Some kind of instincts must have kicked in because he immediately leapt up into a defensive position, eyes twitching warily about the room like a frightened animal. "Mr. Olivander?" he questioned in the high, cracking voice of an eleven year old boy, "What just happened? Why did Hagrid turn into a little boy?"
Upon realizing the boy had just referred to him Tom replied for the old man with a disgruntled sneer, "'Little boy'? You must be half my size. And who on earth is Hagrid? You're the one who appeared out of nowhere." Green eyes narrowed, but Tom turned to the still speechless wand-maker and decided he didn't care about what had happened as he shoved his hand into his pocket and dumped the right amount of coins onto the counter. "Here's your money. If that is the normal kind of riffraff you serve, I'll just take this one," he snarled and stormed out, bell tinkling discordantly.
"Hey wait! Hold up!" the boys voice called out. Tom sped up his pace to get away, but spun around angrily at the hand on his shoulder. "Hey, sorry 'bout earlier. It's just Hagrid was like ten feet tall so it was weird when you appeared there," he apologized quickly, "you are a lot taller than me." Slightly appeased, Tom raised an eyebrow delicately, "what do you want?" The boy paused, looking lost for a second then started rambling, "Well Mr. Olivander is kinda creepy and he was just staring at me so you seemed more… Um… do you know if its normal for the shops to change randomly? Because I'm pretty sure Flourish and Blotts was there last time I checked." Tom glanced at the Restaurant the boy had pointed to and shrugged, "I've never heard that name before, and I wouldn't know," Tom said, a bit confused but unwilling to admit it.
"And where on Earth did Hagrid go? I don't think he'd just leave me…" the boy muttered to himself then trailed off. Looking a bit embarrassed he looked to Tom hopefully, "D'you think you could take me to the leaky cauldron? I can't remember which way it is." Tom looked down at the boy pensively. He shrugged carelessly and stalked towards where he knew the tavern to be. It was never too early to begin a following and besides, he had to get back to the orphanage.
They walked in silence- Harry stumbling on Tom's heels trying to keep up with the taller boy's stride until they reached the dingy bar. Tom turned to the bedraggled boy and held out a hand politely, "Tom Riddle." The other boy took it gingerly and Tom felt an unpleasant spark shoot up his arm from the contact and settled across his entire body. They both jumped apart. The other boy ran a hand through his already messy hair, "Er… I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
Tom nodded and turned to leave only to be halted by a hand loosely gripping his sleeve. Green eyes looked up nervously, "Are you going to Hogwarts?" Tom smirked. "I'll see you September 1st."
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