CHAPTER 1 Brilliant Minds

[Tom Riddle]

11-year-old Tom Riddle bathed in beautiful, bright lights as he entered Hogwarts' Great Hall. He strolled graciously along his fellow first-years, up to the aisle in front of the Head Table. His stance was composed. He did not twitch or gasp in surprise like others did. Yet, his eyes betrayed him. Sharp violet-coloured eyes were taking every detail -every aspect- in. Tom was surprised and to say curious was an understatement. A world which he knew nothing of. A world which he belonged to. A world which was unexploited to him.

And he would prove himself in this mysterious magical world. He would tear all the information from books and grab every oppurtunity to gain more knowledge. More power. He was no more the little orphan boy in that ugly, tasteless orphanage who was left to his devices. No more, from now on he would emerge better. Stronger.

[Albus Dumbledore]

Gryffindor. He had really been put in Gryffindor. Of course he had comtemplated about which house would suit him. His younger brother, Aberforth, had been telling him he would easily make it to Gryffindor. His brother admired him for being strong and brave. Yet instead of giving in to evil, Albus used it for kindness. His little disabled sister, Ariana, thought he would be in Hufflepuff. She only saw the big kind and selfless brother who would read her a bedtime story every night and support the family. But, Albus knew better. Sure, he liked to see happy smiles and use his power for the good, but deep down he knew he was better. Better than those average people. Better than those muggles. In the past, his magic had been restricted to accidental magic. But here at Hogwarts he was free. Free of his family duties, the leash which held him tightly for the last few years. And Albus was going to exploit the limits of magic and above all, go beyond his own boundaries.

The auburn-haired boy silently walked to the Gryffindor table. No Gryffindor was cheering for him. However, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were clapping formally, just like the teachers at the Head Table. It wasn't that surprising. Everyone knew about his father. News travelled very fast in the small wizarding community. Therefore, it was no miracle people knew about his father's muggle-hating morals. Fellow students probably thought Albus, as the heir, would follow in his father's legacy. But he would not mindlessly follow those morals. Albus would make his own choices.

[Gellert Grindelwald]

Through the dark streets of Knockturn Alley, a man, not even in his thirties yet, made his way to Borgin and Burkes. His smooth walk revealed that he obviously knew the place. The man wore dark robes in contrast to his blonde hair. Underneath his hood, pale blue eyes were searching for the owner when he went into the shop.

There was no sight of the owner, yet the man didn't turn and leave. Instead he chose to delve deeper into the shop. He graciously stepped forward, avoiding the obstacles which Borkin would call 'products'.

Gellert Grindelwald needed something. That something was worth getting it by himself. And that something would be the first edition of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Any muggle or wizard wouldn't have believed that the greatest Dark Lord of all times would come to pick up a fairy tale book in person. But he knew better. One tale might not be so unrealistic. And said tale will be the key to his victory, if 'he' did not stop him first. Soon, he would have the greatest power of all.

[Harry Potter]

A young Harry James Potter in his mid-twenties watched the ongoing Sorting Ceremony from his high chair at the High Table. In his hand, he held a beautifully decorated glass filled with Sauvignon blanc. His killing-curse green eyes scanned the Great Hall through his round, thin-rimmed glasses.

At the same time, he heard the Hat shout "Slytherin". He turned to look up. His eyes took in every detail of the first-year student who made his way to his newly-appointed House. The boy was tall for his age, his facial futures were sharp and his eyes stunningly purple. His demeanor shouted confidence, yet he knew better from life-experience. The boy was astonished and curious. His eyes gave away too much. A muggleborn, maybe? It would explain why his house gave him nasty looks, despite his noble features and pureblood-like behaviour. If he remembered correctly, his name was... Tom. Tom Riddle.

Awfully mundane. Yet, despite his roots, the boy did catch his attention. Just like the other first-year Albus Dumbledore. Curious, Harry thought. Very curious. Both first-years were attractive and both were placed in a House where they weren't wanted. Above all, both boys caught his attention at first sight. Something even most adults couldn't. Interesting.

It had been a while since he was... excited. But that excitement quickly disappeared. His intuition told him both boys might be special in their own ways. However, they were young and their fates were not set in stone. They still needed to learn a lot, before they were ready to take him on.

Yet, he was actually delighted at the opportunity of introducing new players to his chessboard. But first, he needed to be patient. To let them mature. But in the future, if they could, he would raise the stakes. After all, he was prepared for the Endgame.

But for now, he thought while taking a nip of his drink, I just need to remember the opening speech. And play the happy-go-lucky-fool, he added as an afterthought. During the time Minerva made her announcement, Harry placed his glass gently on the old table.

"Headmaster Potter will be giving the opening speech."