A/N: I dislike this chapter. Or rather I liked the idea of it, helpful Hagrid like figure comes and tells Tom about his heritage and who better than Albus Dumbledore himself? But then I tried writing it and I realised that Tom is much more intelligent than Harry and simply won't accept he's a wizard as quickly or as easily. So I showed it to two of my friends, one of who gave me some helpful advice which I worked on [thank you David] the other of whom told me without sugar coating that it was "cr*p" only without the star and that it was too like Harry Potter. My answer to this is that it is supposed to be… kind of anyway. There are only so many ways you can say "you're a wizard" and that's one of them. I also figured Dumbledore passed his job down to Hagrid, so don't tell me its like Harry Potter because I already know. Please Read and Review!

Chapter 2: The Dawn

Tom looked quickly back at the words to check they still read the same as before as the auburn haired man seated himself in the opposite chair.

You have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"I don't understand."

"Few people do." He removed his half moon spectacles from the end of his nose and polished them before setting them back in their place in front of sparkling blue eyes. "But hopefully with my help you shall not understand a little less." He had been given little time to unravel this complicated double negative before the stranger continued. "There is something about yourself that nobody has ever told you. Not through any malicious intent, you understand, simply because they did not know themselves. You're a wizard Tom."

Tom stared across at this kindly looking, mysterious gentleman and suppressed the urge to either stare vacantly or simply laugh out loud. "I'm a what?"

Albus Dumbledore smiled; it was always a struggle getting the intelligent ones to understand. "A wizard."

Tom shook his head. "I can't be."

"And why not?"

"Because everyone knows that wizards don't really exist."

"Has anything ever happened to you that you couldn't explain? Something that it seemed happened without a cause, as if by magic?"

"Wizards don't exist," Tom repeated gently but firmly. Clearly this man while extremely amiable was at the very least mildly deluded. "Wizards only exist within the pages of story books, they give the good guys a chance at victory or they give them an enemy to fight. But they do not exist within the confines of reality."

"You are extremely well informed for one of so few years," Dumbledore commented mildly, his lips twitching into a half smile. "Or at least you would be if what you said were true. But I believe what you actually mean is that you have never had any proof towards the existence of wizards and consequently think they cannot exist."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not entirely. But then," he paused eyes twinkling over the top of his glasses and Tom shrank back into the comfort of his seat. "Even if they were you have not been entirely truthful with me I fear."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you not? ... This morning you ran from three boys who, had they caught you, would have taken pleasure in the pain they inflicted on you for there is no compassion in the hearts of any of them."

"How do you know this?"

Dumbledore merely raised an eyebrow and continued. "You were cornered and hid under the bed of a small girl. You could not have escaped without them finding you and yet you sit before me unharmed. Two possible explanations exist. Perhaps the boys had a change of heart and decided not to harm you after all but that is extremely unlikely. The other explanation is that the impossible happened. Samuel Higgins looked under the bed beneath which you lay and saw nothing. Why was this do you suppose?"

"I don't know."

"Perhaps you became invisible."

"That's impossible."

"Precisely. So how could it have happened?"

"I got lucky, he didn't notice me."

"In my experience, luck is nothing more then a state of mind, the reason he didn't see you was because you didn't want him to see you. Perhaps it was just luck that while you could feel his breath on your face he managed to miss your entire presence. But if that is so I would like to ask you just why it so much more improbable that you simply ceased to be visible."

"Because…" once again Riddle found himself flailing lamely for an answer, any answer. Dumbledore just sat watching him, a slightly amused and wistful expression colouring his features. There were a million reasons why he could not have been invisible and Tom wanted to shout them all out at once and wipe that smile from Dumbledore's face but as he opened his mouth to end this argument they melted from his tongue. "I can't be a wizard," he finished weakly.

"You are. It is as much a part of you as your hair, blue eyes, fierce intelligence and, if I may, an equally fierce suspicion of harmless strangers."

A chorus of bells sounded from inside his robes and Dumbledore pulled out a large square watch and peered at its face intently before twisting one of the dials on the side and setting it down on the desk in front of him. "Confounded thing is still ten minutes too fast." Despite himself Tom reached out a hand to examine the intriguing object before withdrawing it as Dumbledore's gaze settled on his outstretched fingertips. "I've taken it to be fixed three times and its still not working properly." He pushed it across the shiny surface towards the boy. Beneath the square face six coloured hands moved at different speeds and in different directions. Tom twisted it around in his hands but whichever way up it faced he could make no sense of it except to deduce that the two red hands appeared to be telling the same time as the wooden framed clock on the wall. "What do the other hands tell you?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing at the moment. I'll take it with me tomorrow. We'll have some time to spare after we've finished picking up your school supplies. They may actually fix it this time."

This time Tom didn't bother to question the man, knowing the action was pointless. "I have to go now," Albus Dumbledore commented as he rose from the chair. "Can I have my watch back?" Reluctantly Tom handed back the extraordinary piece of machinery and followed him to the door. "It was nice to meet you Tom," Dumbledore held out his hand and the boy shook it uncertainly. "I'll see you tomorrow at nine o'clock sharp." He winked and vanished.

The hand that had until very recently held another trembled and he moved quickly over to the desk and leant heavily against it. His mind rebelled against what he had seen happen. I'll see you tomorrow at nine o'clock sharp. A soft bell clanged. His breathing had begun to slow again and Tom looked up from his own white knuckles clutching the bevelled edge of the desk towards where Dumbledore's alarm clock still rang resting gently on top of the thick parchment of his letters.