Dumbledore handed him a cloth, pointed his wand at it and Tom felt it dampen.
He wiped the blood from his face in front of a mirror Dumbledore had produced, envying the man his wand, under the careful scrutiny of the others in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that the girl who had run away returned to the room.
"Are you injured?" Dumbledore asked. "I fear he showed no restraint, even towards you."
"He may have done internal damage." said Tom quietly. "I coughed blood."
Dumbledore's wand passed over his abdomen. "I am no healer, but you may need medical attention. I fear he has indeed harmed you."
Tom nodded in vague disinterest.
He glanced to the side, eyes catching another girl his age. She audibly whimpered. Ordinarily Tom would have laughed, but he felt beyond humour at that moment. This entire situation was too surreal for his liking and the fear he inflicted on these people was fear they felt at the memory of that snake-like maniac. He didn't feel proud of that.
"Who are these people?" He asked Dumbledore before he could catch himself.
"These people, Tom, are members of the Order of the Phoenix. They represent resistance against Lord Voldemort and his followers. I will introduce you later. For now, I need to discuss your circumstances with you. After taking a glance into your memories, I see you have no desire to return to Voldemort."
Tom glowered. "I won't go back."
Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I see. In this time Tom, you are either with Voldemort or against him. To release you back into the world alone would be both cruel, as you do not belong in our time and are unarmed, as well as foolish. If he were to find you, he would most assuredly kill you. That leaves you here. This is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. I would be obliged to ask you to remain here."
Tom stiffened. "Is that wise?"
"You face no other option at the moment. Perhaps I will be able to assist you in finding your way back to your appropriate time. If you leave, you are damning yourself."
"Then let him be damned." one of the others in the room snorted. The man had wild eyes, dark hair and a regal demeanour.
Tom regarded him curiously. He greatly resembled someone he knew from Hogwarts.
"Orion?" asked Tom curiously.
The man's face grew pale and he turned away, retreating into an armchair, looking anywhere but at Tom.
"That is Sirius Black." said Dumbledore, "Son of Orion Black, owner of this house."
Tom looked passed the others in the room and watched the man in the chair. "I really am in 1997."
"Yes. Will you stay? You will die if you leave. I do not know what effects that would have."
"Why not just kill him then?" The boy named Harry hissed. "If he dies at his age, he'd have never grown up to be a monster."
"Harry." Dumbledore said sharply. "Lower your wands, all of you. If Tom and Voldemort can both exist here now, then killing Tom will not change the present. Whatever brought Tom here, it existed separately to how he was originally meant to live."
"Why are you defending me?" Tom interjected. "You never liked me. What do you care if I die?"
"I may have had concerns over your interests Tom, but now that you see your future, were those concerns unfounded?" Dumbledore watched him with sad eyes. "You have not done anything to merit death Tom. You must stop thinking in such sharp contrasts of light and dark. You are not yet a man. I saw how you felt when you met Voldemort. As long as you can change, I will assist you. That is how it's always been, from the day I came to take you to Hogwarts."
Tom lowered his gaze, noting how intently all around were watching him. "Does that matter? They don't want me here."
"Damn right." Sirius muttered. "What are you thinking Albus?"
"I am thinking that this boy has not murdered anyone, Sirius. This boy is not a monster, just a young man. Young men often make mistakes." Dumbledore regarded him sharply. "Where would they all be if people cast them aside so recklessly?"
Sirius visibly bristled.
"I understand," he replied through clenched teeth, "But that doesn't mean I can just forget. What about James and Lily, Dumbledore? What about Marlene McKinnon and her family, or Edgar Bones and his entire family? Dorcas Meadowes? It's not that easy to just forget."
The others in the room visibly darkened, most of all the boy named Harry, who glared at Tom with deep loathing.
"As I have said." Dumbledore repeated calmly. "This boy has no connection to those deaths. Lord Voldemort murdered those people. Tom Riddle is only a boy, one who is innocent of the crimes you hold against him and unarmed. I trust the people in this room to be wise enough, if not kind enough, to understand that makes him no more dangerous than the chair on which he sits at the moment."
Tom darkened. He hated to feel so weak. He understood Dumbledore was defending him, possibly even saving his life by doing so and yet he couldn't help feel stung by that last comment.
"V…very well." A stout woman with red hair took a step forward.
"Molly!" The man next to her hissed, but she waved him off.
"He is just a boy." She said, forcing herself to look at Tom with pained eyes. "And I won't be part of throwing him to his death. It isn't easy Albus." She swallowed. "But if it's what you wish, I see no reason why he shouldn't remain here. Above all else, he doesn't even have a wand."
Albus nodded lightly. "Exactly, Molly."
The man next to her, also red headed, laid a hand on her arm. Her husband then, Tom noted. "I agree. If we leave him to fend for himself, we're as good as murderers ourselves."
"Sirius?" Dumbledore turned to the man in the armchair.
He frowned. "Fine. He stays then. But I've had enough of pureblood mania from my family in the house. I won't tolerate it from you." he said, glaring at Tom.
Dumbledore looked at Tom briefly. "Perhaps Tom, in light of what has occurred, you would not mind if I were to inform them?"
Feeling his blood curdle as he did so, Tom looked at Dumbledore. "If you must." he muttered.
"Very well." Dumbledore nodded. "Tom is not a pureblood wizard, Sirius. His father was a muggle."
At this, the room became alive with whispers and Tom pulled into himself, eyes trained on the ground. He could feel their loathing, hear his name in their whispers. It was just like the orphanage. He jumped to his feet, effectively silencing them.
"Tom, you are injured. Don't be irrational." Dumbledore told him,
"I don't care." He hissed, hand pressed to his abdomen. "I'm not a freak; I will not be observed and spoken about like one. I want to be away."
Dumbledore nodded. "We will find a room for you."
Tom wouldn't look at them, only follow Dumbledore.
How he hated this. Even here, amongst muggleborns and outcasts, he was the freak. Hours ago he had been in Hogwarts, hailed as an exceptional student. Here, he was nothing again.
As he skirted Dumbledore's room out of the room, he felt every pair of eyes in the room on his back, clenched his fists and kept walking.