Tom Riddle watched the door close behind Professor Dumbledore, and sat on the end of his bed, absorbing the information that had just been presented to him.
"Always knew I was special," he mumbled quietly to himself, as he absentmindedly shook his box of stolen goods. But, gosh, a wizard! He grinned. No more being stuck in this crummy, old dump they called an orphanage. No longer would he have to see the moronic faces of the kids here. No, he was a wizard. He was going to get an education.
Speaking of education, Tom looked down at the list of supplies in his hand and frowned. He was going to have to get these sometime soon. Better make it tomorrow. Tom wanted to get of here as quickly as he could. That means I'm going to have to ask her if I can go out, he thought. No help for it. Sighing, Tom threw the box of stolen goods on his bed, and made his way to the stairs.
"Hello Amy," he murmured quietly to the little girl on the landing. Having been tormented by Tom last summer, she gave him a quick, acknowledging nod before shrinking hurried from his sight. Clicking his tongue at her rudeness, Tom made his way downstairs.
Mrs. Cole, the orphanage owner, lay sprawled on her cozy chair, obviously passed out from drink. Tom grinned slightly. So that's how Dumbledore had gotten the old woman to agree to him being sent off. Well, he'd just have to use her drunkenness to his advantage.
Prodding her hard, but not so hard that he'd get in trouble, Tom called her name.
"What? Blimey, boy, what do you need now? Can't a woman get her sleep?" mumbled Mrs. Cole, turning back over in the chair.
"Yes, Mrs. Cole," Tom murmured politely. No point in getting her mad. If he wanted to get something, he'd have to be polite with her. "However, I was wondering if I may go out tomorrow and get supplies for school. We are starting in a few days, ma'am."
Mrs. Cole rolled back over, took in Tom's slightly smiling, polite face, and nodded.
"Alright. But, hic, no more than two hours, boy. Off to bed with you. And, you too Amy!"
Caught in the act of snooping, Amy dashed away from the door crack, and back upstairs, most likely to tell the other girls that Tom was going away to a school.
After giving Mrs. Cole a smart 'thank you', Tom made his way back up to stairs and into his bedroom. The box of stolen items still sat on the bed, and he picked them up. As much as he didn't want to give them back, he might have to. What if Dumbledore didn't let him go to school if he didn't give them back to the kids? Shuddering at the thought, Tom put the box back in the wardrobe.
Well, he thought, he never said how I had to give them back. I'll just leave them in the downstairs coat closet on the floor. They'll find them eventually. Yeah, then he wouldn't have to apologize. And things got lost on coat closet floor all the time.
Feeling lighter than he had in months, Tom went over to the window, and opened it. Fresh air immediately rushed to fill the clean, but dreary room. Distant music sounded from someone's apartment. Straining to hear the lyrics of the far away melody, the music started to swell, and Tom could hear the music crystal clear.
It was that new artist's song, 'Beyond the Sea' by what was his name? Bobby Darin. His voice and the band started to fill the room, holding Tom to the spot for a moment, delaying his crawling into the bed.
Somewhere beyond the sea. She's there watching for me.
If I could fly like birds on high, then straight to her arms, I'd go sailing.
Tom grinned to himself at the flying line, and moved to tuck himself into bed. 'I wonder if wizards can fly?' was his last thought as he drifted off into sleep.
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The old man had said that the building was around here somewhere. Tom frowned at the piece of paper in his hand. You're no help, he thought at the piece of paper, rather angry that he couldn't find the stupid building. Maybe I should have let the man, what was his name, Dumbledore help me after all.
No way, came another voice in his head. I don't need help.
"Shut it up there, all of you," Tom mumbled vaguely up to his head. Rubbing his forehead, he turned back to the piece of paper with the direction and took another look at it. Let's see. He took that left down by the post office, continued straight, took that right, oh! Tom smacked his head. He missed the turn at the coffee shop!
Jogging quickly back to the coffee shop, Tom rounded the corner, and took the turn that led him up to a rather shabby looking pub that he wouldn't have noticed had he not been looking for it. A sign in the window in scrawled, cramped handwriting read, "The Leaky Cauldron". Sighing with relief that he had managed to find the place, he pushed through the crowd of Londoners, none of whom seemed to notice the pub, and into The Leaky Cauldron.
The bells above the door jangled merrily as Tom walked curiously into the pub. So this was the world he belonged too. It wasn't much, the pub. It was rather dusty, the chairs and tables worn down from constant use from its wizard customers. Wizards. Just the thought sent a small shiver down Tom's spine. He was a wizard. Smiling slightly at the thought, he continued to take in the pub.
"Can I help you with something, lad?" a gravelly voice from behind him asked. Tom let out a small yelp, and turned around to see a man had appeared with a pop behind the counter. Tom narrowed his eyes.
"You weren't there a minute ago," it wasn't a question or a statement. It was fact.
"Nope! I had to nip upstairs real quick and check on a few things. Figured I'd Apparate back down. Name's Tom," the man held out a hand.
Tom cautiously shook the bartender's hand. "My name's Tom as well. What is Apparating?"
The barman chuckled. "Fancy, same name as me. Well Apparating, Tom, is where you disappear from one place and appear in another place, the place you want to be. Does that make sense?"
Tom's eyes widened. "Do I get to learn this?" he asked, barely able to suppress the excitement he was feeling.
The barman chuckled again. "Not till your seventeen, lad. You go to Hogwarts?"
Tom nodded his head quickly. "I'm starting my first year soon. I need to get to Diagon Alley for things." He waved a second piece of paper that had been tucked under the direction.
The barman nodded and gestured toward a door that seemed to lead out to a courtyard. "Back wall. Third brick from the left above the dustbin. Good luck at Hogwarts, Tom."
Giving the man a quick smile, Tom dashed out of the shabby bar, and into the courtyard. The back wall was a large brick wall, moss covering the bricks, a sign of how long it had survived. Tom vaguely wondered how long wizards had been hiding their existences from Muggles.
"Third brick from the left," he mumbled quietly to himself. "Ah ha!" Tom spied the brick he was looking for, and stretching his fingers so his little eleven year old body could reach the brick, he pushed in the brick.
Stepping back from the wall, Tom watched in wide eyed amazement as the previously brick wall opened up into an archway. Through the opening archways, Tom got his first real glimpse at what the wizarding world he belonged to was like.
Colorful shops with odd signs in them (Dragon's Blood: Half-off! One day only!, A wand for every witch and wizard! Ollivander's Wand Shop; "Get your fresh toad's eyes here!") lined the streets. Wizards and witches in robes of all colors (though black seemed to be the preferred color) walked around the streets, discussing anything from the rising price of eel liver ("It's just not right, Violet! They're robbing us!") to the problems in the Ministry ("One more exploding toilet, and I'm going to take things into my own hands!") to music ("Did you get the tickets for the Weird Sisters? I want to see them before I go back to school, Iv!").
Taking a deep breath, Tom stepped through the archway, and in to the world he knew he had belonged to since he was born.
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New wand tucked safety in his jeans pocket, Tom made his way with his trunk to King's Crossing. A different piece of paper in his hand, he pondered his way through the station, searching for Platform 9 and ¾. When he didn't see it between Platforms 9 and 10, he contemplated asking someone around him where it was.
Part of his mind sniffed. You don't need help. You're a wizard. He grinned. Yes, he was a wizard, wasn't he? And he would be a powerful wizard. He would study, he would work hard, and he would get respect.
And with any luck, he thought, I'll be in Slytherin.
"Slytherin is the house for the purest of wizards. There's nothing wrong with being in that house, but many a dark wizards have come out of that house," Ollivander had told Tom while measuring him for his wand. "Try this one."
"Powerful, dark wizards?" Tom asked, waving the wand that Ollivander had given him. Nothing happened with the wand, and Ollivander took it back.
"Yes, powerful. But, not in a way that you want to be. They enjoy torturing the innocent and Muggles. How about this one? 8 inches, Oak, Unicorn Hair." He passed another wand over to Tom.
Tom waved the wand idly, thinking about what Ollivander had said. Powerful was the main word he had latched on too. Slytherin. It stirred something in his memory as he handed the wand back to Ollivander. "Slytherin. Is there a snake in the house's symbol?"
Ollivander was pulling out all kinds of wand boxes, but on that comment, he paused for a moment and looked at Tom. "Yes, it is. Why do you ask?"
Tom couldn't contain his excitement. "I speak to snakes!"
Ollivander slowly pulled out a wand box. "Do you now, Tom? That's not a very common talent. Salazar Slytherin spoke to snakes. It's a trait that's normally only associated with the darkest of wizards."
Tom grinned. "I'm special?"
Ollivander carefully took the wand out of the box. "I suppose you could say that," he said slowly. "Try this one. Yew. 13 and ½ inches. Heart of a single Phoenix Feather."
Tom took the wand into his hand, and immediately he knew it would work. Waving the wand, a small snake shot out of the end of wand. Tom smirked as Ollivander darted the snake and hurried to disappear the snake with his wand.
"That'll be 30 galleons, Tom," Ollivander whispered.
Tom continued to look for Platform 9 and ¾ at the station. Hmm, he thought. What if, he cast a look at the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. It was worth a try. Working his way to the barrier, Tom leaned nonchalantly against the wall, and felt himself slip through the barrier.
A steaming train and happy, teary families greeted him as he fell through the barrier. Sniffing at the sappy scenes in front of him, Tom made his way to the train, the Hogwarts Express he had heard one of the boys he passed call it.
On the train, he made his way to an empty cabin, and, after placing his truck carefully up in the rack, sat down, and waited for the train to leave. Five minutes passed, and the train started to slowly chug away from the platform. Smiling slightly to himself, Tom settled down for a long trip to Hogwarts.
A gasp came from outside the cabin, and a blonde long-haired girl shoved open the door to the cabin, struggling to carry her truck. "Is there room, I mean," the girl took a deep breath, set her truck down and started again. "Can I sit here with you?"
Tom allowed the girl a moment to squirm under his gaze, before breaking into an attractive, charming smile. "Of course! I can't let a fair lady sit there and struggle." Rising, Tom moved to help the girl with her truck. The girl shook her head and fought to put her truck up on the rack, without Tom's help. Tom stood, unhelpful, as he watched the girl try to put her truck up.
After a moment's more worth of great effort on the girl's part, the truck rested in the rack. The girl turned back to Tom, wearing a brilliant smile on her face, and held out her hand. "Sara Beckham. My dad works at a law firm. My mom's a librarian. First witch in the family." She beamed at the last sentence, proud of her accomplishment.
Tom looked at her suspiciously, and took her hand. "Tom Riddle. My mom was a witch. She died. Never knew her. Dad was a muggle, and personally, I'm glad I never met him."
Sara nodded, as if she understood. "He left her?"
Tom felt a familiar bubble of anger come up at the mention of his father, and swallowed it. Not now, he thought. I don't want to scare her off. She seems…nice enough. Stubborn, he thought with a fleeting grin.
"Yeah. Haven't heard from him since. And personally, I'm glad. Now, care to join me, Miss Sara?"
Sara rolled her eyes. "Just Sara."
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"Riddle, Tom," called Professor McGonagall, and Tom moved to accept the Sorting Hat. Placing the hat on his head, Tom sat on the stool.
Tom Riddle. Named after your father were you?
Leave my father out of this, Tom hissed at the hat.
A sore spot, eh? No matter. You're a smart young lad. You'd do well with your new friend, Sara, in Ravenclaw.
I don't have friends. And I don't want to be in Ravenclaw.
No? Well what do you want to be in, Tom? Slytherin? Oh, yes that would please you greatly to be in Slytherin. But, it would put you on a dangerous path, one I'm not sure you should be on.
No! I want to be in Slytherin. Please! I was told you would take my opinion into account!
I am, I am. My, you know all the loop holes. You're very charismatic, Tom. You shouldn't use that just to advance yourself.
Can we stop the idle talking, please? Sort me already.
Well, alright if you're sure you want Slytherin.
Yes! With all my heart!
Okay. SLYTHERIN!
Tom rose quickly, took off the hat, and marched purposefully over to the hooting Slytherin table. Across the hall, little Sara clapped over at the Ravenclaw table. Tom gave her a tentative wave. She may not be all that bad, he thought. But I don't need friends. And he turned back to watch the rest of the first years sorted.
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