Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall
Part Two: The Beginning
Chapter Ten-
- Familiar Faces -
Tom followed Dumbledore's directions and soon found himself standing in front of a decrepit building, shoved between a closed bookstore and an old record store. Even the street, Charing Cross Road, was falling apart, with the pavement cracked in plenty of places and weeds sticking up through crevices in the sidewalk. Taller weeds strangled a rusted fence between the buildings. This is madness, he thought, as the wind rustled his hair. He stepped towards the shabby-looking inn, glancing up at a dirty sign that creaked in the breeze. As he stepped closer to the door, writing appeared on the sign. "The Leaky Cauldron."
His eyes widened slightly. He wasn't joking! Tom looked to the door, hesitant. Then he took a deep breath and opened the door, revealing a dimly lit, loud tavern. Voices filtered out into the street and he could barely hear himself think as he entered the tavern, the door shutting behind him. The air was smoky and he coughed, waving his hand in front of his face. Making his way towards the bar, he saw a young man, about mid-thirties, cleaning a mug with an off-white towel.
"Are you Tom?" he asked, still disliking the fact that the man shared his name. Why couldn't I have had a more unusual name? he thought, annoyed.
The man looked at him and nodded. "Aye. And you are?"
"Tom Riddle. Professor Dumbledore told me to see you. Said that you could get me into Diagon Alley."
A smile broke across the barman's bearded face. "Aye! He told me ye might be headin' this way. Starting yer first year at Hogwarts?"
"Yes." Tom kept his face expressionless, not in the mood for pleasantries. Inside, however, he was curious as to how exactly this Tom the barman had known he was coming. How did Dumbledore already talk to him? I left right after him. There's no way he could have reached London before me…
The barman nodded. "Well then, follow me. I'll show ye the way." He walked out from behind the bar and Tom followed, silent. The man led him through the back door, into a small courtyard, choked with weeds. He stopped before a brick wall and Tom arched an eyebrow, curious.
"This is Diagon Alley?"
"No, no!" the barman laughed heartedly. "Diagon Alley is on the other side of this wall. Now watch." He drew a stick like Dumbledore's from his pocket and tapped a number of bricks in succession. Tom memorized it quickly, stashing it away in his memory.
Suddenly, the bricks parted as if pushed by invisible hands, revealing one of the most spectacular sights that Tom had ever seen. A long street stretched into the distance, where a tall, tilted marble building stood. It looked ready to fall to one side and Tom wondered how it could still be standing. Lining the street were many stores, some decorated in bright colors, others had tables out in front selling various goods. However, the cobblestone street wasn't what drew his attention. Everywhere he looked there were robed figures, wearing different colored clothing. Some wore pointed hats, others just wore shirts and jeans, and some weren't even human. He saw something with seven fingers and a long, hooked nose talking to a large woman. A bucket of what appeared to be pig snouts sat between them.
"Do ye need anyone to show ye yer way around?" asked the barman.
Tom just shook his head. "No, thanks."
"When yer ready to come back, just walk to the wall and it'll let ye through."
Tom began walking down the street, clutching his envelope tightly in his hand. He didn't even care that his clothes were ragged. The people here were dressed in far stranger clothing. His gaze wandered from store to store, amazed and speechless. One store, a cauldron shop, had a stack of black cauldrons that shone in the sun. Hanging over them was a sign that read:
Cauldrons
All sizes
Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver
Self-Stirring
Collapsible
Across the street was a shop called "Slug and Jiggers Apothecary". A tall wizard strode out the door and a horrible stench of bad eggs and rotten cabbage filtered out into the street. Tom wrinkled his nose and moved quickly down the street, dodging people as they went about their daily business. He passed by Flourish and Blotts, an interesting looking bookstore, and Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Across the street from the ice cream parlor was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
Tom stopped, moving to the side so that he wasn't trampled, and pulled out his supply list. I need three sets of plain black school robes. This should do it. He entered the robe shop, tucking his supply list into his pocket.
"Hello dear!" greeted a young woman, with frazzled black hair. "Come to get your school robes?"
Tom nodded. "What do I do?"
She smiled pleasantly. "I'll take you to the back, where we can fit you for your robes." She walked towards the back and Tom took a moment to look around. The robe shop wasn't large, but along its walls were racks of many-colored robes. Some shone in the sunlight that streamed in front the front windows, others were dark colors, absorbing the light. Displayed in the front windows were spangled and brightly-colored robes. Why anyone would wear those robes, Tom didn't know. He made his way to the back and saw that the far wall was covered in mirrors. He turned to face the young woman, who motioned for him to step up onto a short stool.
"My mum owns the store and I'm learning so that I can take over in a few years," the woman said, smiling. "My name's Elisabeth."
"Tom. Tom Riddle."
"Nice to meet you, Tom." She took out a tape measure and a long stick similar to Dumbledore's. What are those? wondered Tom, but he wasn't about to ask. He didn't want to look like a complete dolt. With a wave of her stick, the tape measure began flying around Tom, taking various measurements. Tom hid his surprise but couldn't help but watch as it moved around him.
"Coming to Hogwarts?" asked a cheery voice.
Tom looked over to see a young boy, appearing to be Tom's age, with short, auburn hair, and smiling hazel eyes. He was being fitted for a long black robe as well by another young woman. "Yes. Are you?" said Tom, holding up his arms as Elisabeth began fitting him for his robes.
"Brilliant! It's my first year! My name's Alphard Black. What's yours?"
"Tom Riddle."
"Nice to meet you, Tom. I can't wait until Hogwarts! My Aunt Elladora tells me it's a dreary place, but I don't believe her. My mum and dad tell me not to listen to her. 'One too many be-headings of house elves finally got to her', they always say," he said, laughing.
As Tom didn't know what a house-elf was, he merely smiled slightly. "You're eleven, then?"
Alphard nodded, grinning. "My older brother, Procyon, he's a second-year and in Slytherin. I hope I'm in that house. My entire family's been in Slytherin. What about you?"
Tom was saved from answering as Elisabeth said, "That does you. I'll take your robes up front where you can pay for them."
"Thanks." He glanced at Alphard. "I have to go." He stepped off the stool, walking towards the front.
"See you on the train!" called Alphard.
After Tom purchased his robes, he exited the shop, walking over to the ice cream parlor. He stopped, remaining in the shadows, where it was cooler. I need to buy a book about this wizarding world. I hate not knowing what they're talking about and I'm going to look like a complete dolt if I don't learn.
He was about to head out into the street when he heard a male voice that sounded strangely familiar. He slid back into the shadows, listening, clutching his package containing his newly purchased school robes.
"- the play! It was absolutely brilliant! The Quidditch World Cup, fantastic! I can't wait until the next one!"
"The way they fly around so fast!" came another male voice. "Wicked! I've been playing Quidditch since I was three and I still can't fly that well."
Two boys turned the corner and Tom could only stare. One was dark-haired, to whom he didn't pay attention to, but the other… The other was tall for his youth, about 5'2", with ear-length, wavy platinum hair, pale skin, and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing an expensive-looking, silk, blue short-sleeved polo and black trousers. He had obviously been playing some sports, for even though he was slender, he was a bit muscular.
Tom stepped out of the shadows, coming face to face with the white-haired boy. They stared at each other for a few long moments.
"Will you excuse me?" the white-haired boy said to his companion, who shrugged.
"I'll catch you at Quidditch Supplies," the boy said, leaving.
Tom still couldn't speak, his heart hammering a mile a minute inside his chest.
"Tom?" asked the white-haired boy incredulously.
Tom swallowed, finally finding his voice. It came out cold and bitter. "Surprised to see me, Vincent?"
"A – a bit," Vincent finally managed, still staring at Tom. "You've…you've changed."
Tom refrained from rolling his eyes. Was that all they could say? "Well spotted. People often change after three years in hell." He glared, his voice growing icier.
Vincent shifted uneasily under Tom's gaze, glancing at the ground and then looked back up at him. "Tom…I didn't –"
"Didn't what, expect me to be special?" he spat. "Expect me to find out that I'm not just an orphan, but a wizard? To see this?" He swept his hand at Diagon Alley.
"No!" said Vincent, his eyes widening. "I just, Tom, I didn't even expect this! I tried to get them to take you too!"
"Codswallop!" snapped Tom, furious, but managing to keep his face cold. His dark eyes burned with fury, but his voice remained icy. "You got out of there and you were happy. You and Shawn both. You left me and didn't even care."
People were starting to stop, staring, but Tom ignored them.
Vincent glanced around and then looked back at Tom. "Look, Tom…"
Tom held up a hand to silence him. "Piss off, Vincent. Be happy in your new life." He glared and walked away, leaving Vincent to only stare after him.
He was still bristling from his encounter with Vincent when he entered Flourish and Blotts. Shoving Vincent from his mind, he focused on skimming the book tittles. He spotted Hogwarts: A History and pulled it out. After flipping through a few pages, he smiled. Perfect. Setting down the package containing his robes, he checked his supply list and then tucked it away, picking up his package again. After a few minutes, he had found all the books he needed and purchased them.
Walking over to a large, comfy chair in the back of the store, he took a seat, setting down his things. Draping his long legs over the arm of the chair, he settled himself and opened Hogwarts: A History, and began reading.
He didn't know how much time passed when a voice said, "It's a good read, I hear." Tom looked up to see a tall, muscular teenage boy. He wore a silk black shirt and trousers and his raven hair hung neatly around his angular features. "My name's Rafe Lestrange." He held out his hand.
"Tom Riddle," said Tom, taking his hand and shaking it. He put his book away, sitting up. "You've read the book?"
Rafe nodded, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "Read it back in my first-year. Always helps to know the history of your school," he smirked.
"What year are you?"
"Fifth. I got my Prefect badge this year, of course. Are you a first-year? Because I can't say I've seen you before."
"Yes, I'm a first year."
"What house do you want to be in?"
Tom quickly ran through what he had just read and picked out a house that had stuck in his mind. "Slytherin."
Rafe smirked. "Good choice. I'm in Slytherin, best house in Hogwarts, in my opinion. My brother, Randolph, is a first-year this year. I'm sure he'll be Sorted into Slytherin. You're a pure-blood, right?"
Again, Tom had to scan his memory, thinking back to his readings. Pure-blood…they said that Slytherin was a house for pure-bloods…but that's only if both your parents are wizarding…so I'm what…a half-blood? The word sounded distasteful and already Tom hated it.
"Does it matter, so long as you have power?"
Rafe shrugged. "Power is one thing. Lineage is another. Only pure-bloods get into Slytherin."
We'll see about that, thought Tom, but he only said "I should think so." He spotted a young girl standing a few feet away, her face simultaneously cross and sullen, with heavy brows and a long, pallid face. "Who's that?"
Rafe looked to the girl and then back to Tom. "Eileen Prince. She's a fifth year and the other Prefect in Slytherin. Strange girl. She's always busy with some sort of potion. Not exactly someone to be seen with."
Tom looked at her for a few more moments, watching as she flipped through a book. Then he looked back at Rafe. "I'll keep that in mind." He stood, finding himself almost as tall as Rafe. "I'll see you at school."
"Possibly before-hand," said Rafe. As Tom headed for the door, Rafe called, "Oi!" When Tom turned back, Rafe said, "If you're looking for an interesting place to go, check out Knockturn Alley." He smirked and walked behind a bookshelf, disappearing from sight.
Tom wondered what Knockturn Alley was, but figured he might as well investigate it. Anything to stay in the wizarding world longer. He left the bookstore and walked down the street, entering Ollivander's. The shop was narrow and shabby, and the window display was a faded purple cushion upon which sat a single wand. That was what those sticks where that Tom had seen Dumbledore and Elisabeth use: wands.
Tom walked inside, looking around the shop. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with thousands of narrow boxes and the only furniture was a single, spindly chair.
"Hello there." Tom looked to see an older man, with eerie moon-like eyes, walk out from between two rows of boxes.
"Hi." Tom figured this man must be Mr. Ollivander. He was curious if this man had made all the wands in the shop, but he would have had to been quite old. Anything's possible here, I suppose, he thought.
"Here to buy a wand? Well of course you are," the old man continued, without allowing Tom to answer. "Now, can't say I've seen you around before. What's your name?"
"Tom Riddle."
"Riddle…no, can't say I've heard of the name. Muggle-born I suppose."
"My father was a wizard," he said coldly.
"Oh?" Ollivander's eyebrows rose questioningly. "Well, then perhaps he didn't purchase his wand here. Nevertheless, I'll find the wand that suits you. Yes, yes." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"I'm left-handed," said Tom. Tom caught the flicker of surprise on Ollivander's face and frowned. "What's wrong with that?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just an unusual trait. Hold up your left arm, then." Tom did so and watched as Ollivander measure him from his shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. "Every wand has the core of a powerful magical substance and you'll find that no two of my wands are alike. Nor any witch or wizard for that matter."
Tom was beginning to become annoyed with the tape measure as it flitted around, measuring every inch of him. Ollivander had wandered into the rows of boxes, pulling out various ones. He glared at the tape measure and watched as it fell to the floor with a 'THUNK'. Tom smirked and then watched as Ollivander came back, holding out a dark colored wand.
"Try this. Ash and dragon heartstring. Ten inches. Take it and give it a wave." Tom did so and watched as several boxes came flying out of the walls, crashing to the floor. "Nope." Ollivander gave him another wand. "Oak and unicorn hair. Nine inches." When Tom waved this wand, nothing happened and Ollivander snatched the wand from his grasp. This continued until Ollivander finally presented him with a long, beautifully carved wand. He seemed to take special care in handing it to Tom. "Now this wand. It's an unusually powerful wand, haven't found the right owner yet. Made out of yew. Yew trees are known for their long lives and symbolize death, but also resurrection. Very curious wand, thirteen and a half inches, with a single phoenix tail feather. Of course, the wand chooses its wizard, so I'll be curious to see if this one chooses you."
Tom took the wand and felt a shiver run through him. Golden sparks flew out of the tip of the wand and Ollivander gave Tom a curious look. "It seems that this wand has chosen its wizard, after hundreds of years. Very curious, for you to be destined for this particular wand."
"How much?" asked Tom, having had about enough of the strange old man.
"Seven Galleons." Tom handed him the money, took his wand, and left.
As he walked down the street, he thought back to his wand. Unusually powerful, he thought with a smirk. Perfect. He passed by an alleyway and saw a sign reading "Knockturn Alley." It was already beginning to get dark and though Tom wanted to explore the alley, the one Rafe had mentioned, he knew he had to get back. Hugging his packages to his chest, he made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron. He would read all his books as soon as possible, wanting to know as much as he could about the wizarding world. Then he would return, to explore Knockturn Alley, buy the rest of his supplies, and meet more Hogwarts students. He would show Vincent. He would show him how powerful he really was and in the end, Vincent would pay. Tom couldn't wait.