Chapter Seven -- Summer Arrives

Tom Riddle sat on an oversized trunk in the middle of Kings Cross Station. Inside were all of the belongings that he'd deemed important: His wand, his cloaks, a few bags of herbs, and some books. Everything else, he claimed, was irrelevant.

Lucius had seen him off that morning with a smile and a nod. It made Tom uncomfortable -- suddenly being treated like a young child on his first day to school. Sometimes he had to keep repeating to himself, "I am Lord Voldemort, I am Lord Voldemort." Yet here he was, in the guise of a lovely sixteen-year-old boy, off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the summer months. He had to smile at that.

He checked the clock. The Hogwarts Express would be arriving soon and he wanted to get on that train and off to Hogwarts as quickly as possible. He couldn't stand being in this Muggle-infested train station. Everything in the station screamed Muggle -- from the children running along with sticky lollypop fingers to the entrepreneurs briskly going from gate to gate, talking on their cell phones. It practically made him ill. Muggles -- everywhere.

He got up from his less-than-comfortable seat and hauled his trunk over to the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Platform Nine and Three- Quarters -- How long had it been! He suddenly remembered himself doing this as a child -- Running through the barrier and smiling at the scarlet steam engine on the other side. How whimsical!

He held his breath, for old time's sake, and ran straight at the barrier, pulling his trunk behind him. And then, there he was -- on good old Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, staring at that lovely scarlet steam engine. The children were getting off, hauling satchels and wardrobes and cages with ruffled owls. They were hugging each other good-bye and exchanging some last minute gossip on their classmates and even on the faculty. And Tom found himself happily drifting back to when he was an ambitious young Hogwarts student. In some ways, it seemed so long ago. In other ways, it seemed like only yesterday. "I am Lord Voldemort," he whispered to himself. "I am Lord Voldemort."

He recognized some of the students. The brilliant Hermione Granger and the less-than-brilliant Ron Weasley stepped off of the train together. Then there was Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco, who walked with a swagger and his two flunkies, Crabbe and Goyle. He almost pulled the hood of his cape up so that no one could see his face but then he thought better . . . Who would recognize him here? Who would ever think that . . .

"Tom Riddle," declared a low whisper and Tom cringed. He would know that voice anywhere. Rubeus Hagrid -- The boy he had falsely accused of opening the Chamber of Secrets back in 1943. Exactly the man he hadn't wanted to see.

"I'd put your hood up if I were you," Hagrid continued. "You never know who could be standing on this platform -- Who could recognize you. I don't think it would do any good for the student body to know that Lord Voldemort is staying at Hogwarts."

Tom did as suggested and pulled his hood up.

"I'm to see you to the train," Hagrid explained. "You better listen to me carefully. Dumbledore seems to have a great deal of confidence in you. Personally, I don't trust you."

"Speaking from experience, Hagrid?" Tom smirked.

"I'm just telling you to watch yourself."

"I think it's fairly humorous that you're giving me a warning," Tom said, smiling sardonically under his cloak. "After all, you've never received proper training in the magical arts. You can cast . . . what? A few simple spells? You forget Hagrid -- I'm one of the most powerful wizards of this age."

"I'm just telling you to watch yourself," Hagrid repeated threateningly. He picked up Tom's trunk and hauled it onto the train while Tom followed swiftly behind him.

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"You wanted me?"

Dumbledore had summoned Harry to his office . . . again. Harry found himself in a rather solemn mood. Whenever he came to Dumbledore's office, it was usually to hear some bad news.

"I just wanted to let you know," Dumbledore said, "Tom Riddle will be arriving at Hogwarts this evening."

"Oh. So soon."

"Yes," Dumbledore replied sympathetically. "I probably should have told you about the binding spell before now. This is all probably happening a little too quickly for you but . . ." Dumbledore pulled a black leather book out of his desk drawer. "I wanted you to take a look at this."

"What is it?"

"Open it up," Dumbledore smiled.

Harry opened the book and found a picture of a lovely sixteen-year- old boy with jet black hair and crimson eyes. His slight form was draped in heavy green velvet robes. Although the boy was smiling, he appeared rather saturnine to Harry. His eyes were sad.

"Tom Riddle," Harry said, recognizing the boy immediately.

"That picture was taken during Tom's sixth year," Dumbledore said. "He was your age."

Harry, for the first time, noticed the resemblance.

"He looks sad," Harry stated, handing the book back to Dumbledore.

"He was a very tragic character. Very tragic indeed."

Harry stood there awkwardly. Dumbledore's sudden melancholy was making him uncomfortable. He decided to change the subject.

"What time is . . . Tom . . ." The name felt strange on his lips. Tom. Just Tom. "What time is Tom going to be arriving?"

"He'll be arriving in Hogsmeade around seven," Dumbledore replied. "We're to meet him at the railroad station."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised and disappointed at the same time.

"What? Is something the matter?"

"It's just . . . I didn't think that we'd have to go and meet him there."

Dumbledore smiled with understanding. "You were hoping that Tom would arrive, retire to his rooms and that you could avoid seeing him for the duration of the summer," Dumbledore said, practically reading Harry's mind. "It wouldn't make it any easier for you. If anything, it would just make it harder. The more time you two spend together, the better."

Harry grimaced. He didn't want to spend any time with that . . . thing. He'd dead-bolt his door if he had to. He'd dead-bolt his door . . . And Voldemort could promptly open it using "Alohomora." Thwarted again, Harry thought to himself.

"It's three now," Dumbledore said, looking up at a clock. "We should be starting off to Hogsmeade soon. Change your clothes then and go get something to eat. I'll meet you up in the great hall at five."

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Tom Riddle sat, completely alone, in the compartment. He stared out of the window and wondered what Hogwarts was like now. Severus Snape still teaching potions, he smiled to himself. He would have fun tormenting Snape. But what would it be like? He found his mind lingering on formalities. Where would he stay? Where would he eat? Not in the Great Hall, he scoffed. The staff couldn't stand him, the students would avoid him at all costs. And, for the first time, the high Dark Lord felt like a complete recluse. "So this is what being infamous is like," he thought to himself.

Hogwarts Express pulled up into the railroad station. "God, here already," Tom thought to himself, suddenly beginning to feel nervous. "I am Lord Voldemort," he repeated to himself quietly, as if he could grasp at some sort of strength from that fact. "Oh forget it," he sighed. "Like that's going to matter at all here. I am Lord Voldemort . . . I'm Tom Riddle." That was the first time he'd referred to himself by that name in a while and it made him feel strange. I am Tom Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle. The prodigy child of Hogwarts.

He shivered.

"Oh Tom," he scolded himself. "Why are you getting so worked up over this? You've seen years of death, torture, and pain. You've withstood tests of strength and willpower. You've had legions of loyal followers beneath you. And now you're getting nervous about what? Returning to your old school? This is positively ridiculous, Tom Riddle."

He got off of the train and found that his trunk had already been unloaded by Hagrid. He could see the imprint of a fist in the fine leather. "Ah, my old classmate," Tom smiled. "Still bearing a grudge after all these years? About what I did to you all those years ago or about what I did to young Mister Potter, I wonder."

Young Mister Potter. Tom had hardly thought about the boy at all during the trip and now he remembered that Harry Potter was the purpose to this visit. Harry Potter was the most important part of this entire fiasco. Tom briefly wondered if the boy had grown any since their last encounter.

"Tom!"

Tom turned around quickly and saw Dumbledore waving cheerfully to him from the side of the street. Tom was shocked to say the least. He hadn't expected anyone to come and meet him at the station. He wasn't sure whether he should be pleased with this or . . . His thoughts trailed off when he saw a small shape standing behind Dumbledore. The shape was completely covered in a heavy red robe with the hood completely covering the face.

It was Harry Potter.

Tom knew it was Harry. He also knew, even from such a distance, that the young boy was crying. He could feel it. "I guess this is what it's like to be bound," Tom fleetingly thought to himself. Is that why the boy had covered his face? To try and stop Tom from seeing his tears? Tom didn't know what to make of the young Mister Potter. He decided to remain casually aloof to his archenemy and stood there, arms crossed and looking as hostile as ever. "After all," Tom Riddle thought to himself. "This is 'The Boy Who Lived.' Let him suffer with this relationship for a while." All those nights that Tom had dreamed about revenge on the young Potter boy were finally coming to light and he was going to enjoy it . . . At least for a while.

"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore smiled, walking up to his former pupil. "How wonderful to see you looking . . . so well!" Dumbledore's smile became even wider at the thought that he had brought about this amazing and appealing transformation.

"Pleased to see you again also, Professor Dumbledore," Tom said, not sounding very pleased at all.

"I was thinking that maybe we could stop down at The Three Broomsticks and get some butterbeer. After all, it's not every day that one of my students -- especially so prestigious a student -- comes back to Hogwarts."

Tom heard a quick, throaty sob come from under the hood and smiled -- feeling genuinely cruel since the first time he had gotten the news about the binding spell.

"I would love to," he said.