This is taken directly from HBP p. 246-258 "The Secret Riddle". I do not own Harry Potter or it's characters, as I am not JK Rowling. If you think I am, you're incredibly stupid.

In a bustling, old-fashioned London street a tall figure crossed the road in front of a horse drawn milk cart. The man had long auburn hair and beard. Having reached the other side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing. The man walked a short distance, finally passing through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once. After a moment or two the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs Cole, who, I believe is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the bewildered-looking girl, taking in the man's eccentric appearance. "Um…just a mo'…MRS COLE!" she bellowed over her shoulder. There was a distant voice that shouted something in response. The girl turned back to the man.

"Come in, she's on 'er way."

The man stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Almost immediately, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying towards them. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked towards the man.

"…and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets - chicken pox on top of everything else," she said to nobody in particular, and then her eyes fell upon the man and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her threshold.

"Good afternoon," said the man, holding out his hand. Mrs Cole simply gaped.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today." Mrs Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly, "Oh, yes. Well - well, then - you'd better come into my room. Yes." She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eying him nervously.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future," said Dumbledore.

"Are you family?" asked Mrs Cole.

"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer Tom a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"And how come you're interested in Tom?"

"We believe he has the qualities we are looking for."

"You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he have done? He's never been entered for one."

"Well, his name has been down for our school since birth -"

"Who registered him? His parents?"

There was no doubt Mrs Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Dumbledore thought so too, for he slipped a stick of wood out of the pocket of his velvet suit, at the same time picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs Cole's desktop.

"Here," said Dumbledore, waving his wand once as he passed her the piece of paper, "I think this will make everything clear." Mrs Cole's eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently at the blank paper for a moment.

"That seems perfectly I order," she said placidly, handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before.

"Er - may I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra-refined voice.

"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore, beaming.

It soon became very clear that Mrs Cole was no novice when it came to gin-drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn't hesitate to press his advantage.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's history? I think he was born here in the orphanage?"

"That's right," said Mrs Cole, helping herself to more gin. "I remember it as clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour." Mrs Cole nodded impressively and took another generous gulp of gin.

"Did she say anything before she died?" asked Dumbledore. "Anything about the boy's father for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs Cole, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience for her story.

"I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty - and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father - yes, I know, funny name isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus - and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word. Well, we named him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage and he's been here ever since."

Mrs Cole helped herself, almost absent-mindedly, to another healthy measure of gin. Two pink spots had appeared high on her cheek-bones. Then she said, "He's a funny boy."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I thought he might be."

"He was a funny baby, too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was…odd."

"Odd in what way?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"Well he -" But Mrs Cole pulled up short, and there was nothing blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she shot Dumbledore over her gin glass.

"He's definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," said Dumbledore.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing," said Dumbledore.

"You'll be taking him away, whatever?"

"Whatever," repeated Dumbledore gravely. She squinted at him as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush, "He scares the other children."

"You mean he is a bully?" asked Dumbledore.

"I think he must be," said Mrs Cole, frowning slightly, "but it's very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents…nasty things…"

Dumbledore did not press here, though he looked interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her cheeks grew rosier still.

"Billy Stubbs's rabbit…well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so, no," said Dumbledore quietly.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then -" Mrs Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time, "on the summer outing - we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside - well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And well, there have been a lot of things, funny things…" She looked at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady.

"I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?" said Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," said Mrs Cole with a slight hiccough. She got to her feet and Dumbledore was impressed to see that she was quite steady, even though two-thirds of the gin was now gone. "I suppose you'd like to see him?"

"Very much," said Dumbledore, rising up too.

She led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans were all wearing the same kind of greyish tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared-for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up.

"Here we are," said Mrs Cole, as they turned off the second landing and stepped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr Dumberton - sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you - well, I'll let him do it."

"How do you do Tom?" said Dumbledore, walking forwards and holding out his hand.

And so it begins! Just a little side note, I will be updating my other story just as soon as the pink plot bunnies stop biting me over this one.

I accidentally wrote 'Harry was impressed to see that she [Mrs Cole] was quite steady'. I was copying directly from the book (in case you haven't noticed) at some ungodly hour and I'm proud to say that was like, the only time I wrote Harry. The other times I got halfway through his name and realized what I was doing :D. Thanks Maurader's Queen for pointing that out!