July 24, 1944

Tom went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Riddle and Tom Sr. already sitting at the kitchen table. He sat down and took the toast Mrs. Riddle offered him.

"Tom, an owl came for you ," said Mr. Riddle, passing him envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink.

Tom read the letters as his family chatted idly. There was a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year. He knew what to expect before even having to open the second.

Dear Mr. Riddle,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to serve as Headboy. You proven that you have ambition, the ability to lead other, and are resourceful, which Slytherins have long been lauded for.

We are certain that you will continue to be a model for your peers and will take your new responsibilities seriously. Enclosed please find your Head Badge, which should be worn on your school robes at all times. Congratulations!

Sincerely,

Armando Dippet

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"What have you got there, son," Tom Sr. asked as he saw something flash silver and gold fall into his son's palm.

Tom turned it over in his hand, the hogwarts crest glinting. "It's my headboy badge."

"Headboy? Well, that's wonderful, Tom!" Tom Sr. said

"We'll have a celebratory dinner," Mary Riddle announced. "Would you like that, Tom?"

He looked up from his badge, and slipped it into his pocket. "I would like that very much," he answered seriously.

"Of course you shall have it," his grandfather injected, "A boy has more self respect when he can prove as able as you.

August 25, 1944

The manor was empty, save for Tom. Truth be told, he had been waiting for a day like this to come, where he could slip out unnoticed. He got up and dressed, choosing a plain shirt and trousers. He opened his wardrobe, and retrieved a pouch of coins he shrunk and placed in his pocket.

Turning on the spot, he apparated to Diagon Alley. He was quickly swept into the bustle of rushing shoppers. The sun shined brightly down on stacks of cauldrons at the nearest shop. Copper, brass, pewter, silver, all sizes. Eelop's Owl Emporium advertised tawny, screech, barn, brown, and snowy. A gaggle of boys crowded around the window shop showing off the latest broom, the Cleansweep 30.

He made his way down the cobbled alley to Flourish and Blotts. Inside the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk' books full of peculiar symbols, and a few books with nothing in them at all.

He picked up, The Standard Book of Spells Grade 7, from the display at the front of the shop as well as a few other finds. Afterwards he headed to Madam Malkin's.

She was dressed all in mauve, smiling widely.

"New robes dear?" she asked, leading him to the back of the shop. She slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," a small boy being fitted next to him greeted.

Tom nodded back.

"You're Tom Riddle, aren't you?" he asked.

"I am," Tom said, raising an eyebrow at the dark haired boy.

"I'm Black. Cygnus Black. Walburga's my sister. She says you're brightest wizard to attend Hogwarts since Merlin himself," he told Tom excitedly.

But before Tom could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear."

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I'm going to be in Slytherin," said the boy confidently.

"Slytherin would do well to have you," Tom told him who smiled, pleased.

Tom collected his bag and paid his amount before leaving the shop.

Outside, he put on a lighter black cloak, drawing the hood, before crossing the street. He glanced around, then slid into Knockturn Alley and out of sight.

The side street, devoted to the dark arts, looked completely deserted.

He peered into windows as he passed them, but none of the shops seemed to have any customers at all.

He stepped into Borgin and Burkes. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. He came to stand in the midsts of cases filled with skulls and old bottles before reaching the back wall. There stood a single ebony shelf, only half stocked with old, dusty tombs.

It was important that he find answers here. If not, he would have to need to involve Professor Slughorn. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Some time later found himself leaning against a case that held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye.

A bell clanged, as Tom closed the last book. Sighing, he placed it back on the shelf. He had found some of the tombs interesting, the rest useless, and none had what he was looking for.

Two people entered the shop, and rang a bell on the counter. Mr. Borgin, a stooping man appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.

"Young Master Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted - and the Black Missus, too - charmed. How may I be of assistance? Or, might you be here to, collect-"

"Yes, yes, have you got it?" Abraxas asked, crossing the shop, looking lazily at the items on display.

Borgin slinked back to the store room.

Malfoy, who had reached for a glass eye drawled "Don't touch anything, Walburga." Then as an after thought he added, " Or do."

He bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls- when he saw a pair of brown leather shoes through the opposite side. He straightened himself quickly, making his way around the shelf, but he was alone. He was admiring a withered hand on a cushion when he heard conversation from the front of the shop.

"Abraxas," Tom greeted as Abraxas joined them.

"Tom, I knew I saw someone back there," he said, leaning against the counter.

Just then, Borgin reappeared, a pair of pince-nez fixed to his nose and a small wrapped package in hand.

"There you have it," he said setting the package carefully upon the counter. Abraxas glanced at it before shrinking it to size and shoving it into his pocket.

"Master Riddle, you must be extremely careful with those!" Borgin warned.

"Don't you worry, Mr. Borgin, I shall be taking fine care of this," Abraxas said, clapping his pocket enthusiastically as the three slytherins made their way to the door.

The moment the door had closed, Walburga dropped her timid manner.

"That was unbearable," she exclaimed. "Did you see the way he was looking at me, the cretin."

They had emerged into a dingy alleyway and passed a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watched them from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other.

"I never asked you to come," Abraxas pointed out, but she pointedly ignored him. "What's a dame like you want to go there for anyways?"

"Father used to take Alphard there when he was younger. He hated the trips and used to tell me all the vile things he'd seen in there. I wanted to go too, but father would never bring me."

"What business had you there?" Abraxas asked Tom.

"Research."

They were soon thrown back into the busy streets of Diagon Alley.

"Walburga! WALBURGA!"

There was Cygnus waving them over frantically, with another blonde haired girl, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor along with Orion Black.

"Walburga!" said Cygnus, as they sat down. "You said you would be waiting outside of Madam Malkins! Then I met Druella, she got tired of shopping and she's run away from her parents-"

"Damon helped me!" She piped in.

"And we went to Flourish and Blotts and Tomes and Scrolls, but you weren't there! Then we ran into Orion and he bought us this-!" Cygnus and Druella showed off their large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams.

"Orion," Walburga fawned, leaning towards him, placing her hand on her cousin's arm. He had filled out over the summer holiday, she noted pleased. "You didn't tell me you would be here today," She said fluttering her long lashes and twirling a dark strand of glossy hair around her finger. "Lucretia's wrote me that you've been made prefect!"

"Well done, Orion," Tom said, "We'll be seeing more of each other this year."

Orion nodded back curtly.

"I'm telling, Walburga." Cygnus said, his eyes dreamy as he slurped happily on his ice cream.

"Oh, Merlin," Orion said nervously. He attempted to get up but Walburga stopped him, holding down his arm and whispering into his ear.

"Mummy said you were to were to accompany me," Cygnus continued.

"You won't say word," she hissed venomously. "Not unless you fancy dear mother finding your magazines under the floorboards," Walburga threatened.

"I have no such things. Besides, we both know mummy favors you least. I'm the youngest son of the House of Black. She wouldn't believe you even if shoved the magazines under her nose." Cygnus said calmly, handing over the over the cone of his ice cream to Druella.

"You little shite!" she screeched, her cheekbones turning red. She leaped out of her chair and after her brother, both disappearing into the crowds.

There was a brief silence. Then-

"What the bloody hell's wrong with those Blacks? They're a positively mental bunch, they are. I s-..." Malfoy stopped abruptly, remembering that Orion was still with them.

"Orion! Congratulation on the betrothal, I suppose. I don't reckon we could forget that? Walburga's not that bad really -"

"Go to hell, Malfoy," Orion swore, his grey eyes flashing. He pushed back in his chair and grabbed Druella's bag of school books before dragging her by hand off to return her to her parents.

"It was lovely to meet you," she called, waving to the handsome boys.

Tom and Abraxas sat alone now, under the unforgiving sun.

"That sorry son of a bitch," Abraxas said, shaking his head. "You can tell he doesn't want it…"

"Who's a bitch?" Rosier asked as he sat down with them, three minty ice creams in hand.

"It doesn't matter," Abraxas said, taking the cone offered. "Say, I don't suppose you might have lost something, you know, blonde and about yea big," he said raising his hand a ways above the table. Cygnus has taken her."

"Oh? He's alright, Cygnus. Mum and dad were throwing a real fit," he said calmly.

"He's been made prefect," Abraxas told him.

"And no doubt you've been made Headboy, haven't you?" Rosier said to Tom.

"I have," he said quietly.

"It was to be expected really," Rosier said, looking to the sky and squinting.

"I heard the Headgirl's Hufflepuff," Rosier continued.

"Well that's a damn sight better than Gryffindor," Abraxas said.

"This is really going to be our last year."

Tom had a lot to do before the school year was done.