Tom stared glumly at the fence of the orphanage. The fence was 10 feet high, and surrounded the drat building entirely. There was no hope in climbing it at all - The owner of the house had made sure of that. "F*** this." He snapped at the cowering builder. "Just make sure no one gets past it." And he stormed away, scattering leaves left and right. Tom had been five back then, and had watched from his broken window curiously.
Tom is eleven now. Six years past, and he still thought this place was hell. Might as well has been. It was already devastating enough to be stuck here. But to be stuck with the most stupid, the most meanest bullies was the worst. Not to mention the stinky cat food the owner gave Tom everytime he asked for food.
Oh, how Tom swore he would get revenge. One day, very very soon. Tom smiled at the thought.
But the young boy wished too soon. Losing track of time, he stared at the fence, engrossed in his dark thoughts of glory and revenge. Distracted, he did not notice the lurking shadows creeping up on him.
"Riddle!" The sound jolt Tom out of his stupor. "What are you doing, Riddle? Wishing that mummy would come to rescue you from the big scary boys?" It was the Big Blonde. The Big Blonde who had singled him out from the first day he was brought to the orphanage. He had gone out of his way to make Tom's life miserable, and succeeded in many ways.
"Of course not. Mummies are for little boys." Tom replied back, not moving from his seat. He could see the tremendous shadows creeping up - for the sun was to his back. "Why, are you missing yours?"
Big Blonde bared his teeth very doglike and snarled at him. His friend, the Big Brown, Tom called him, pounded his fists on the ground and growled. "You'll regret this, Marvolo. You'll regret this so many that you were cower!" Tom laughed at the crazy grammar mistakes.
"Sure I will, Blondie."
"Excuse me? I will pound your face until it bleeds! I will - BLEUARRHHHH!" Big Blonde was cut off when a mud puddle in front of him exploded, splattering the advancing boy with brown sticky sloshes.
Tom took this opportunity to run, far from the offending creatures, far from the drat orphanage, and far from this jail.
He was running so hard and so fast that he did not notice that he past the tall fence. Somehow, it had disappeared under Tom's will and he was able to cross the tall barrier. Big Blonde and Big Brown could only stare, their brains trying to process the scene in front of them.
Tom wandered through the tall streets, eyeing everything thoughtfully. Remember that the orphanage was the first place, the only place Tom ever remembered being in. So all this people and animals, plus the carriages, shocked him.
What was he expecting? A droopy place equally as dirty as the orphanage?
Looking up at the vast buildings, Tom wondered what to do at first. Let me find a place to stay and rest. Then maybe I can find some food. He thought. Spying a small abandoned-looking black door hastily stuck between two ledges, Tom decided that that would be a good place to start. Besides, who would hurt a little boy anyway? He thought as he turned the knob. The door was squeakier than he imagined. And inside was warmer, noisier, darker, and more smelly. Tom wrinkled his nose. What is that smell anyway? He never smelled anything like it at the orphanage. It smelled like vinegar and milk and another whole substance together.
Slowly, Tom walked farther in the dank room. He heard more noises this time - laughter, and the deep rumbling voices of fully grown men.
Oh no, what now?
Taking a deep breath, he peered around the dark corner and poked his head through the door. Surely enough, there were many men with big beards holding big bottles and taking big gulps. Some of them had crazed looks in their eyes, Tom noticed. Wrinkling his nose even farther, he head deeper in. He past a bunch of old men. One of them shouted something like, "You a wizard?" and his friends laughed stupidly. Tom quickened his pace. One thing he noticed as he walked, all of the men were wearing strange attire. Now, Tom had only ever been in a glum orphanage his whole life, and there aren't a lot of fashion magazines there. But he was pretty sure that long robes and black pointed hats were a few centuries late in trends. Or maybe this is some kind of crazy-old-men bar?
"What are ye doing over here, 'ittle boy?" A deep warbling voice startled Tom.
"Huh?" He whipped around.
"Are ye a wizard?" A gruff, tall man was sitting at the table nearest to him. In his hands were a pack of playing cards. There were other men scattered around him, and they seem to be very into the game.
"What's a wizard?" Tom asked hostilely.
"A wizard?" The other men laughed. Some kept playing. "Ye don't know wutta wizard is?"
"What is it?" Tom's patience was running out. "Can't you just tell me?"
The man looked him up and down. Sighing, he turned to his mates. "Call Dippet. Ah think we 'ound a loner."
Later, Tom learned that the big man's name was Howard. Howard was a wizard. So was every single person in that little dank place. So was he. A teacher from a wizard's school was sent to him, explaining everything and why he was selected to go to a place called Hogwarts. Tom listened attentively, not wanting to miss a thing about this mysterious world he'd never known about.
"You'll get to learn spells and such." The teacher explained. He pulled out a stick - or a wand as he insisted - and waved it. Sparks shot out of it. Tom was transfixed. "You must teach me how to do that! If Hogwarts is such a good school, then why don't you teach me?"
But instead of teaching him, the wizard pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to him. "Everything is in Diagon Alley. Tell them you'll pay later." And with that note, he disappeared. Literally.
At Hogwarts now...
"Ahem, First years." A strict, if not kind looking blue-eyed wizard stood in front of all the chattering first years. He stood in front of the group of chattering children. Tom looked up from where he was standing, and fixed his gaze curiously on the wizard. "I'm Professor Dumbledore, and I will be your guide for now." His tall, pointed hat bobbed even taller as he straightened up and headed over through the grand doors of magnificent.
Tom stared in shock when he saw for the first time of the Great Hall. He heard some kids talking about it, but never actually tried to picture it in his mind. Some of the other students had the same reaction, and a girl named Euphemia squealed babyish-ly. Tom huffed in annoyance and resisted the urge to hex some of his soon-to-be schoolmates.
The Great Hall was humongous. So Abraxas Malfoy was telling the truth when he said that. The glittering chandeliers on the ceiling glittered and shined, as if carrying the power of the stars itself. Four great, long tables stretched out, almost perfectly across the length of the hall. Tom never saw anything as magnificent as this. Though, he supposed the most amazing thing he saw his whole life was a squirrel climbing a tree before this, Tom mused bitterly.
"Welcome, first years!" The headmaster, Professor Dippet he heard someone call him. He was a fat old thing, Tom guessed, but he liked the amused glitter in his eyes before he realized it was directed at him. (And the rest of the first years, of course.)
"LET THE SORTING BEGIN!"
A hat, even taller and pointier than Professor Dumbledore's, was placed on a stool, and it began to sing. Tom did not pay that much attention to the annoying hat. He was measuring the teachers, sizing them up if they were fit enough to teach and wondering if they were smart. He recognized the wizard who talked to him now, he was sitting with Professor Dumbledore and chatting.
Meanwhile, the Sorting Hat had finished its song, and everyone was clapping, including Dumbledore, who had joined in enthusiastically. Tom, once again, resisted the urge to hex everyone in this Great room. Couldn't they see that it was just a stupid cringey song? Completely useless?
Tom knew about all the Houses. He also knew that if he was sorted in any other house but Slytherin, he would run away again. Then again, he mused, this was better than that stupid orphanage!
"Alfie, Michael!" The Hat shouted, and a terrified little boy with spiky brown hair stood up, and walked shakily to the stool.
"Hufflepuff!"
Tom resisted his sneers. Malfoy had told him that Hufflepuffs were weak and stupid, with super mushy hearts. One look at this trembling idiot, he understood what Malfoy was talking about.
"Malfoy, Abraxas!"
"Slytherin!"
"Mellie, Eliza!"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Nigellus, Phineas!"
"Slytherin!"
The Sorting Hat went down the role, and soon, Tom began to shift with eagerness and anticipation when the last names started to drift closer to 'R'.
"Riddle, Tom!" Finally!
Tom stood up proudly, not to be daunted by the amount of people in the hall like the Michael boy. Once again, he felt the icy blue eyes on him. It wasn't exactly evil, it was just... unnerving.
But he marched up swiftly, and ignored the offer of Professor Dippet's hand and got up himself, putting the huge Sorting Hat on his head. He immediately heard a nasty little voice.
Well well well. Little Halfblood Riddle, isn't it?
Shut up and put me in Slytherin! Tom snarled back.
Eager, aren't we? I like eager little boys. Hmm... what house shall we put you in? Half blood?
SHUT UP! Tom nearly shouted.
"Slytherin!" The hat finally bellowed. Tom sighed with relief, muttering curses at the hat under his breath. As he made his way to the Slytherin table, he felt the icy eyes on him again. This time, wanting to prove that he won't be daunted, he turned around and fixed a cold glare at the professor. With a jolt, he realized the icy blue eyes belonged to Dumbledore. He looked slightly surprised, but immediately fell back to his usual calm glance.
The rest of the night passed quickly, and while everyone else was yawning and impatient for bed, Tom wondered about tomorrow's lessons. Is he prepared? He read all the textbooks, and even practiced some spells on the Hogwarts Train. He even managed "Accio"!
In his bunk bed, he quickly opened his textbooks again, looking over at the complicated spell of how to turn a pig into fresh bacon. Not that he needed bacon in this school, but it might help at home, if he stole a couple of pigs from the nearby farm.
It was almost eleven when he finally turned off the lights with a wave of his wand, and curled up to sleep.
The next morning - breakfast
"So, Riddle." Malfoy sneered as he bit into a piece of buttered bagel. "Are you a Muggle, a Halfblood, or a Pureblood?"
Tom avoided answering by saying, "Muggles are stupid, aren't they? They don't deserve to go to this school." He thought about his muggle father with disgust, and tried to shake the hatred feeling away.
A boy named Crabbe nodded. "I know, right? My father took me to see the Muggle world for the first time, and it stinks!"
Tom rolled his eyes. The longest sentence Crabbe ever said, and it was about insulting people.
As he skimmed the rest of the teachers, he realized Malfoy was talking to him. "You see that professor over there, Riddle?" He pointed to the blue eyed ginger. "That's Dumbledore. Father reckons that he will be the next Headmaster."
"I know. He's the one who introduced us." Tom quipped. Then he asked, mildly surprised. "The next Headmaster? He must be really good then."
"Good?" Malfoy spluttered into his pumpkin soup. "Blimey, Riddle, he's the best wizard in centuries! I hear he's teaching the hardest class."
Tom curled his lip in a sneer. Best wizard, eh? We'll soon see about that, he snarled in his head. As if he could hear his thoughts, Professor Dumbledore turned and fixed him an icy glare. Tom met his gaze challenging, not believing that he was the best wizard in centuries.
After breakfast, Tom and the rest of the Slytherins head over to their first class - Transfiguration with the Gryffindors.
On the way to class, Malfoy and Bulstrode kept on chattering about how "Gryffindors think they're so smart" after a pair of third years tried to hex them with a Tripping Jinx. Need Tom easily blocked out half of their conversation while he wondered about if his schoolmates were actually pigs in disguise, because all they did was talk, eat, and complain.
Tom strode ahead of the group, wanting to be early to talk to the professor before the rest of the idiots arrive.
He made his way down and opened the door. There, sat the blue eyed Professor Dumbledore. Tom's eyes widen in shock, before he covered it with a polite smile. "Professor Dumbledore, isn't it?"
"Hello Tom." He peered over his round-rimmed spectacles at him. "Please take a seat. You're a little early, but that's all right of course. Just like Miss Prince over here." He gestured towards a brown haired girl reading a book that Tom hadn't noticed. He nodded stiffly, and sat in the seat next to her.
Awkward silence.
"What's your name?" The girl suddenly looked up from her book.
Tom glanced at her. "Tom." he answered after a moment's pause.
"No, I know that." She said. "What's your surname?"
Tom hesitated again before adding, "Tom Riddle."
"I'm Prince. Eileen Prince." The girl said. Tom took a chance to examine her closely. She had warm brown eyes, and flowing brown hair. Her skin was fair, but she looked like she went to the beach before. A handful of freckles were sprinkled across her nose, and her lips were rosy red, never had felt a lash or a punch. Tom disliked her immediately, but also had to admit that she was slightly more atractive than most people.
"Riddle!" Malfoy, Goyle, and Bulstrode had burst into the room. A steady stream of Gryffindors and Slytherins followed. "Where were you!?"
"You slowpokes were too slow, so I walked on ahead." Tom answered indifferently.
"Who's that?" Goyle asked, nodding hopefully at Eileen Prince. Tom had to roll his eyes from Goyle's subtlety.
"A mudblood, she is!" Malfoy spat before Tom could say anything.
Prince widened her brown eyes at Malfoy in confusion and shock, and then glanced at Tom like help!
Tom looked away.
"Class! Pay attention, now." Professor Dumbledore interrupted the students' boisterous chatter. Almost immediately, the class quieted down. "I'm sure a lot of you have heard of the magical arts of Transfiguration." Then he paused. "Of course, everything is magical here at Hogwarts." The class chuckled at the pun.
Tom looked away.
"Pull out your textbooks to page two! I want you to try the spell of turning a quill into a bird. Quite simple. Febulus Assitious!" A quill lying on his desk turned into a magnificent red bird, singing a lovely song. The class was transfixed.
Tom only looked away.
He had researched this spell many times, and practiced it many times. He knew how easy it actually is. So when Dumbledore waved his wand and allowed them to start practicing, Tom pulled out his beloved wand - made out of yew, that is - and waved it.
Without even speaking the words out loud, the quill lying in front of him turned into a beautiful bright green quetzal. It stretched its wings, and began to fly and sing alongside with the red bird that Dumbledore had made.
Obviously, the birds knew each other. Immediately, their high chirpy voices blended together perfectly, imitating a perfect professional chorus. The class didn't even speak this time. Their mouths hung open, and their expressions ranged from jealousy to amazement to disbelief.
Dumbledore peered at Tom with a strange expression on his face. "So I see you have mastered nonverbal spells." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Tom nodded, his face expressionless. He honestly didn't think it was that hard though. You just had to empty your mind, then think very clearly, Febulus Assitious and BUH-BAM! You get a bird. "Please see me after class, Tom."
He nodded respectfully, fully aware that Prince's brown gaze was on his back.
After an hour of listening to shouts of "FEBULUS ASSITIOUS!" (though Eileen Prince managed a tiny, cute blue jay on her third try) and listening to Malfoy's angry rants about how "his wand was not paying attention", Tom finally got to see Dumbledore. He wasn't afraid. He was eager and curious.
"Tom." Dumbledore said as he entered his classroom again. "Tell me, how do you know a nonverbal spell?"
"I just do." he answered mildly, before feeling that his reply wasn't enough. "I mean, it's not hard. You just have to empty your mind."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, before speaking. "All right, Tom. You may leave."
Tom blinked. That's it? Oh well, he thought as he made his way to his next class, Herbology.
For the first few weeks, it was like that. Tom exceeded the professor's expectations, and shocked the class so many times that nothing surprised them anymore. Tom's classmates envied and hated him, but they were too afraid to do anything to anyone with that much power. So instead, everyone respected him, gave him food, and never insulted him.
Tom was in heaven. This was so much better compared to that little torture place. He would be sad when he had to go home. NO! He told himself. This is home. Hogwarts. Not an orphanage. Better make the most of it, then. Then talk Professor Dippet out of sending him the orphanage. Tom suspected that despite all the rumours about the Headmaster, he wasn't as hard to convince as he thought.
Blissfully, he ordered Crabbe to fetch him a book from the library. "Any book." He had said when the burly boy asked him which one.
Ten minutes later, Crabbe had brought back a big book, called Hogwarts, a History. Tom had read this book many many times, but then again, he hadn't really paid attention. With a huff, he curled up and opened the book, while Crabbe giddily skipped away, pleased that he didn't have to fetch another one.
Shivering slightly, Tom squinted closely a the first few chapters.
Grindelwald is the greatest, darkest, wizard ever known in the history of magic. He is, huh? Tom snorted. Well, hopefully that's going to change.
A slow smirk spread over Tom's smooth face, and for the first time in years, a little twinkle had returned to his brown eyes.
Everything will change.
"Riddle!" An annoyed voice woke Tom up. "Riddle, what are you doing over here?"
Blearily, he blinked he sleep out of his eyes. "Me... Wha?" The blurry shape in front of him became in focus as Tom squinted.
"You're in the library. I found you asleep with this book." Eileen Prince held up Hogwarts, a History. Tom immediately reached out for it, but she shook her head. "You have been caught outside your dormitory past school hours."
"So?" Tom snapped. "I accidentally fell asleep. And what about you? What are you doing outside your dormitory past school hours?"
"I am merely on a mission." Eileen stated, scowling at him. "Dumbledore's orders."
"Yeah right. A first year on a mission." Tom snatched the book from her hands and pulled out his wand. "You shouldn't threaten me, you know. I'm muchmore powerful than you."
"Yeah, but-"
Tom ignored her and head out the library. Feeling smugly pleased, he walked back to the Slytherin Common Room. With a simple wave of his wand, he casted an Disillusionment Charm on himself. Anyone nearby wouldn't see a thing.
The Common Room was filled with snores. Apparently, Bulstrode and her pure blood friend had tried staying up and failed. How long until morning? Tom wondered briefly before deciding that it didn't matter. He was planning to stay up anyway. He tiptoed into the boy's dormitories and erased the Disillusionment Charm. Unfortunately, Tom didn't realize that someone was still awake.
"Merlin, Riddle!" shouted Malfoy. "You scared me to death! You just appeared out of nowhere, and-"
"Silencio." Tom hissed. Malfoy's voice was effectively cut off, and he was moving his mouth up and down uselessly. "Don't want to wake up our friendly neighbors, Malfoy." His smile was polite, but the expression in his eyes chilled Abraxas down to his bones. The brown flecks in his eyes should be warm, right? like fresh poop, but instead was icy cold, like the poop that has been sitting in the toilet for hours because someone forgot to flush.
"G'night, Abraxas." Tom said, crawling into his bunk and turning the lights off with a wave of his wand. With a smirk, Tom realized that he had 'forgot' to take the Silencing Charm off of Malfoy. Oh well, he thought as he flipped open to a page in Hogwarts, a History.
The next morning - breakfast
Tom watched, trying to keep his poker face neutral, as Malfoy desperately motioned for a person to take the spell off. His friends were asking stupid questions, like "What's wrong with you?" and "Why can't you speak?". Whenever Malfoy glanced at him, he would look down a his soup and try to stop his shoulders from shaking with laughter. Finally, when it was almost too much to bear, Tom let a snort.
Malfoy's angry glare immediately shot to him.
"Oh, Malfoy, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there. Is something wrong?" Tom asked innocently, feigning concern. Some students giggled.
Malfoy pointed to his throat furiously.
"Ahh, yes. Can't speak?" Tom waved his wand at him. "Now try."
Malfoy opened his mouth... and let out a bird's squawk. The table was howling with laughter now, and some other Houses were looking at them curiously. "Oops! So sorry. Maybe try asking Professor Slughorn for a cure?" Malfoy scowled, squawking a little more and stormed off to their Head of House.
Tom watched with a smirk. He seriously doubted that Slughorn could fix him. He had used a Voice-Changing Charm on Malfoy, and it could only wear off after twelve hours. There wasn't any countercharm for it, unless Tom missed a page in The Advanced Book of Spells.
"Did you do that on purpose?" Goyle asked him, still chuckling.
"Of course not! I made a mistake, we all do!" Tom glared at him, his smirk vanishing. He was actually thinking, Good. Malfoy won't dare to tell anyone about yesterday again. Trying to keep his expression neutral, he left the Slytherin able and head out to Potions with the Hufflepuffs.
"Ahh! Tom Riddle!" Professor Slughorn looked up from his massive pile of parchment and smiled at Tom. "I hear you hexed Mr. Rhion Malfoy."
"It was a complete accident, sir." Tom lied easily. "For some reason, his voice was not working and I tried the Voice-Changing Spell, because that's the only one I know about voices. I suppose I could've used the Adolescence Charm too, but I'm afraid that may change not only his voice but his body too."
Slughorn looked possibly ill at this thought. "Yes, I suppose. All right, take a seat, Tom."
Chuckling to himself, Tom sat down in a front row seat. Professors. I expected them to be more smarter.
Soon, the class began to fill up. Malfoy arrived with Bulstrode, with an annoyed scowl on his face. At this rate, his face was going to freeze into that scowl forever. At least now he won't know to mess with me. Tom smirked with satisfaction.
"All right, everybody!" Slughorn raised his hands. "Quiet down, quiet down, class is starting!
"Today, you will be working with partners I assigned for you. Diggory with Bulstrode..." The Hufflepuff and Slytherin eyed each other reluctantly. "...Malfoy with Nestowe, Goyle with Tessara..."
He went on, listing the partners until he got to Tom's name. "Ahh, yes. Tom with our last Gryffindor, Eileen Prince." The two met exchanged glances, Tom annoyed, and Eileen amused. He looked back towards his textbook, wondering what potion they'll make today. All of the potions were an easy task for Tom, and he was steadily getting more bored in all his classes.
"Today, you will be making a potion that will cure warts." Slughorn announced dramatically. "This is more complex than you think it will be, and must be stirred every 36 seconds exact. Can someone list the most important ingredient and tell why?"
Tom's hand shot up even before Slughorn finished his sentence. Eileen also raised her hand, but slower and more unsure.
"Ahh! Tom Riddle!" Slughorn beamed down at him, ignoring Eileen completely.
"The most essential is three half-cups of baneberry juice, because although slightly poisonous, baneberry juice kills the wart juice that is causing most of the problem." Tom answered promptly. "You can also use the liquified form of dragon fire, but that will take a much more complex... road."
"Very good! 10 points to Slytherin!" Slughorn beamed. "So, today you will make this potion. Follow the directions carefully on page 324, and don't cut yourself when you're cutting the ingredients!" He winked at Tom.
Without acknowledging his partner, he got up to the Potion Stores and grabbed the necessary ingredients. Then he came back with a sharp knife and began cutting ferociously, splattering the berry juice everywhere.
"What are you doing?!" Prince shrieked. "You didn't follow the directions! You're supposed to squeeze it!"
"I know what I'm doing." Tom replied curtly, continuously chopping. "You stay out of the way and I'll earn an O for us."
Eileen fumed, but did what she was told. She buried her nose in the potions book and proceeded to 'stay out of the way'.
After an hour of mixing and measuring, Tom was finally done, admiring the crisp lime color the potion was supposed to turn. Professor Slughorn, seeing that Tom was done, immediately announced that time was up and it was time to grade the potions.
First, he sauntered up to Malfoy and Helen Nestowe and frowned pityingly at their mucky brown slosh. "Hmm... I suppose you added two extra half-millimeters of bubotuber pus? Tut tut, I guess people make mistakes. An Acceptable today, children." Malfoy looked indignant and tried to complain but only succeeded in squawking painfully. Tom smoldered a loud snort.
Next, Slughorn pranced towards Crabbe and his partner. Their potion was a bright red, the exact opposite of the color it was supposed to be. "I suppose you didn't read the directions carefully? Look, it says 3/4 cups of shells, not 34 cups of shells. What a waste. Unfortunately, I will have to give you a Troll today." Shaking his head, Slughorn corrected the other people's potions. Apparently, nobody had gotten it exactly perfect.
Then Slughorn sauntered up to Tom and Eileen. "Ahh... the best student in the class." He beamed triumphantly at Tom, ignoring Eileen's presence next to him. "I don't think I even have to check. Wait, yes I do!" He peered over at the smooth liquid - which was bubbling bright happy green bubbles every now and then - and shook his head in feigned sadness. "Not even one mistake, Riddle! An Outstanding for you and your partner! And 30 points to Slytherin!"
The other students grumbled and glared at Tom, but only received an equally angry glare back. Tom hadn't told anyone of his blood status yet, and prayed to keep it that way. Unfortunately, with Malfoy bleeping mad at him, Eileen Prince as close as what he can call a 'friend', and a reputation for being a teacher's pet, Tom didn't think that anyone would go easy on him. I don't need anyone to go easy on me, anyway. I am strong. Stronger than those poor excuses of pure-bloods.
But then again, muggles aren't good either. They don't deserve to go to this school without a drop of magical blood in their veins. They don't deserve this wizarding life. Only half-bloods are the best. Tom thought triumphantly.
And ever since then, he had a very hard, soft spot for half-bloods like him. But only like him
"Ten points to Slytherin."
"Twenty points to Slytherin."
"One thousand points to Slytherin."
"Infinity points to Slytherin."
Almost immediately, the number of house points each house had were clear. Slytherin was drawing ahead, even faster than Ravenclaw. Tom's housemates did not know whether or not to be mad at him or admire him or thank him. Even Malfoy debated if he should hex Tom back, but decided not to, because his knowledge of spells was scant compared to Tom's, and who knows? They might actually win the House Cup this year!
Every day, Tom went to his classes and earned usually a exact fifty points back. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but around that number. Most of the teachers admired him for not falling asleep in class and did their best to favor him.
Except Dumbledore, that is.
In Transfiguration, Tom transformed everything he was supposed to correctly, usually with a unique twist of his own. For example, one day they were supposed to transform sand into a watch, and Tom's had an engravement of a snake on his. Later, Goyle came up to him and asked him if he could have it.
Dumbledore never gave out praise if he thought something wasn't good. He doesn't do anything out of pity. That's why Tom admired him. O's were a rarity in his class, and he made sure even Tom had to work for it. Dumbledore was very precise, making sure that everyone understood before he let them practice spells on their own.
He was kind to everyone, everyone except Tom.
But why, though?
A/N: Whew! That was long. I would appreciate it if you leave a review, or at least read this whole thing. Thanks for making it to the bottom! Here you go, a lollipop for you!