Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine etc.
Tom was a quiet boy. He had always been quiet, silent, mute - Mrs. Cole went as far as to call him "shy".
He wasn't shy. He was quiet.
The noises of the outside world didn't really bother him, because in his mind there was silence. He could find peace and solitude within himself with the same easiness someone recollected a piece of memory.
That was an ability he has had since he could remember. He had always wondered if it had something to do with his other abilities – a boy who could talk to snakes and run away to his mind.
When Dumbledore explained to him the nature of his powers – their extent – he was inclined to believe in that truth. The old man was everything Tom wished to become one day: powerful, respectable, wise, and quiet.
"Maybe that is that," the boy said to himself, one night before visiting Diagon Alley, unable to close his eyes without his mind bursting with wild scenarios. "All wizards are intelligent and powerful. And silent.".
Diagon Alley wasn't silent, thought.
The place seemed to shake with energy, colors, and noises. There were many wizards screaming for discounts, witches announcing exotic goods, owls shifting in their cages anxiously. For some reason, all those eyes seemed to follow Tom as he passed – a little lost boy finding his own way through a crowd, no one by his side.
He was used to it, he remembered telling Dumbledore.
Tom managed to find every item in his list, although most were well worn-down - the only ones he could afford with the money he had received from school. The only money he had.
He was used to it, also.
The only thing remaining before he could go back to the Orphanage was the thing he had been most excited about: a wand.
Tom entered a little shop – one he nearly missed among brighter, bigger sellers. There was an old man with gray hair close to the counter, muttering to himself while he browsed through what seemed endless shelves. In front of him, two figures stood stoic: a tall woman, with blonde hair so long it went well past her waist, and a blond boy around Tom's age.
"Ah, here it is!" the old man said suddenly, turning in a swift moment and placing a rectangular box in front of the two.
The boy stepped forward, taking a long black wand in his hands. As soon as he lifted it, colorful bubbles came out of the tip. He looked up at the woman, smiling brightly.
"Finally!" She said with a smile and a sigh.
"Ah, very good, very good," The old man shook his head repeatedly. "Aspen, with a dragon core. Flexible. Yes, a good choice. It's 7 galeons, if you please."
Tom was waiting in the shadows, observing. The blond boy, seeming oblivious to his presence, started shaking his new wand, making sparks and bubbles around the store.
"Well, dear boy, you may now approach." The old man said suddenly, and both Tom and the other child jumped slightly. His attention was once more drawn to the counter, where the seller had been watching him.
The boy walked to place the woman had been previously, pulling his hands nervously.
"Let's go, dear." He heard the woman say behind him, near the door.
"No, mom! He saw mine! I want to see his." The boy replied, somewhere at his back.
Tom fought the urge to role his eyes.
Spoiled child.
"You're here to buy a wand, of course. I'm Mr. Ollivander, your wand-maker," the old man said, his eyes on the shelves again. Out of nowhere came a flying tape-measure, circling him around while it did its job. A ghost of a smile spread across his lips while he stretch his arms and straightened his back.
"Here, try this one!" Ollivander said, placing a box much like the one he had just sold on the counter. His eyes, though, were still on the shelves, always searching.
"Try it?" Tom asked, eyeing the box with a frown.
"Yes, try it. Shake it around, see what happens. You know, of course, the wizard doesn't choose the wand! One can't simply waltz in my shop and expect to point me the wand they want," Ollivander replied, laughing at some private joke. "No, the wand chooses the wizard."
Tom agreed and, holding his breath, pulled a thin wand out the box; but nothing happened. He shook it, but still to no avail. Ollivander, who had shot a glance over his shoulder to watch him, muttered a "no" under his breath and started searching again.
"Maybe this one!" The man continued, placing yet another box in front of the boy.
Again Tom pulled a wand out of it, and again not a move did it stir.
Ollivander's smile grew wider as he pushed box after box in his direction, and wand after wand denied him. Tom, on the other hand, was starting to feel nervous. He looked around only to realize the previous family was still at the store, watching. In silence.
He felt his neck burn in embarrassment.
"This one is a very, very good one. It took me days to craft. Try it," Ollivander said, placing a new box – the dustiest of them all – on the counter. Next to it, an unstable pile had been gathering. "It's made of yew, with a core of phoenix feather – amazing creatures, they are. Unyielding, 13 ¹/² inches long. Indeed, very good."
Tom sighed. He thought about ending torture, maybe coming another day. But, he realized, there would be no other day. Mrs. Cole wouldn't give him any more free time until the 1st of September. So, with a heavy sigh, Tom went for the wand.
He knew he had been chosen even before he touched the wood. He could feel warmth up through his arm, sparks in his finger. As he raised it, the wand shone brighter than any lamp, showing its approval.
"Oh, wonderful!" Ollivander congratulated him, clapping his hands. Behind him, he heard the boy exclaiming a loud "wow".
Tom smiled.
After he left the store, he felt a set of eyes following him. The boy looked over his shoulder, only to be met with two very blue iris.
"Hi!" The boy from the store said, very close to his face. Tom jumped back slightly, surprised with the unnexpected poximity.
"Uhm… Hi." He answered with a nod. He started walking again.
"My name's Malfoy. Abraxas Malfoy. And yours?" The boy asked, falling into his pace.
"Tom Riddle."
"Tom Riddle?" Abraxas said, tilting his head. "That's not a wizard name."
"Well, Abraxas is not even a name itself." He replied, raising one eyebrow. "Where's your mother, Abraxas?"
"Wow, you're sensitive about names, aren't you?" The blond said, raising his hands. "My mom is at Borgins & Burkes, although she thinks I don't know about that. It's a dark magic store, you know? Very dangerous."
"I see." Tom agreed, even if he didn't know. He had no idea there was magic until a few days ago, let alone dark magic. They were close to the Leaky Caldron now, and to Tom's exit.
"What about yours?" Abraxas asked suddenly, bumping their shoulder.
"Mine what?" Tom replied, furrowing his eyebrows as he eyed the other. He put some distance between them.
"Your mother." He elaborated, rolling his eyes.
"Oh," The boy said, shaking his head. "She is… In Paris. With my dad. They're in vacations. They trust me to buy my things alone."
"Really?" Abraxas's eyes widened. "This is very nice. My mom doesn't let me do anything on my own. It's such an inconvenience."
"I imagine." Tom came to a stop in front of the Leaky Caldron. He looked at Abraxas with a tight smile. "This is where we part ways. Nice to meet you, Abraxas Malfoy."
"Well, nice to meet you too, Tom Riddle. I hope you get into Slytherin – it's where I'm going, the best House in all of Hogwarts!" The boy confided, hands on hips. "But maybe you should talk more. You're very quiet. But I like that. Goodbye!" He completed, shaking one hand in Tom's direction.
As he watched him leave, Tom thought he, too, liked the boy.