Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took forever, it fought me every step of the way.


Even underground, in a dungeon under a lake, Tom still rose with the sun. It was odd for him, waking up alone. Sure, the dorm was technically full of other first year boys, but each bed was separate, closed off, in a way that his bedroom at the orphanage just wasn't.

It was still cold.

There wasn't much to do in the Common Room when no one else was awake. There were a couple of books, a few ornaments he could play around with, but it was clear the room was intended to be filled with people. Tom didn't like that thought very much.

He skimmed through the books, various tomes on potions and dragons and jinxes that should have all been interesting, but that the authors somehow managed to make very boring. He wasn't feeling up to studying before his first school day even began anyway.

He felt lost. He quickly shoved that thought to the back of his head. He had spent far too long trying to get away from that hellhole of an orphanage to miss it now. He shoved that thought back too.

It was very early, but maybe they'd be serving breakfast anyway. He couldn't be the only early riser in the school.

He was heading down a hallway that intersected on at least five sides when he spotted a very familiar head of red hair.

She was clutching something and rushing, not quite running.

"Ginny?" he called.

She stopped, startled, and whirled around to face him. She was clutching a book to her chest.

"Tom!" she said, relaxing as she spotted him and jogging over, "Did you sleep alright?"

"My room is too cold," he said simply, shrugging.

Her eyes softened in sympathy. She understood, the cold bothered her too.

"What are you reading?" he asked, trying to get a glimpse of her book. 'Into The Void-'.

She snatched the book away before he managed to read the rest of the title, looking alarmed, then she visibly forced herself to relax.

That was… strange.

"Nothing, its just a biography. Boring stuff," she said, almost offhandedly, "Are you heading to the Great Hall? I'm pretty sure they'll be serving breakfast by now."

Why didn't she want him seeing that book? It was the same way she was with the book she bought in Flourish and Blotts, always snapping it shut and hiding it when he came over, never taking it out or trying to read it when he was near.

What he couldn't figure was why. What could she possibly be looking up? He'd lived with her since they were six, if she had found out something he would know too.

Unless this was something to do with her family.

She'd known about Hogwarts and magic from the beginning because her family had gone here, her real family, she'd said, not that horrible woman who'd dumped her in the orphanage.

If this was something about them, he could find out. He could help her. He could share in these secrets. Surely the school had records of former students?

He smiled at her, "Yeah, I am. Want to come with me?"

"Uh," she said, blinking in surprise at his sudden attitude shift, "Sure. Just let me put this in my trunk, I don't want to get food on a library book."

Tom nodded in agreement, "I'll follow you. I'll get lost if I don't."

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, "Alright. But I don't think I should let you into the Common Room, I'm not sure if that's allowed."

They started the walk towards the Gryffindor tower.

"How are the other Slytherins treating you?" Ginny asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"I haven't spoken to them yet."

Ginny grinned, "That sounds about right."

He smirked at her, "It's not my fault if you're the only interesting person I've met."

Ginny's cheeks went oddly red at that.

"Right. We're here," she said as they came to a stop right in front of a very large portrait of a very large woman.

"You better cover your ears," she said to him.

He put his hands over his ears, and watched as she said the password that made the wall behind the portrait swing open like a door.

She climbed through.

Having your hands over your ears didn't block everything, especially when a room was otherwise quiet.


They separated when they got to the Great Hall, Ginny insisting that he actually try to talk to his new Housemates at least once.

He watched her bounce over to the Gryffindor table, wondering why they couldn't have been Sorted into the same House. They should have both been Ravenclaws.

He set his shoulders and headed over to the Slytherin table. There weren't very many students, it was still early, but he found himself sitting on the outskirts of a trio of other first years.

"I'm most excited about Potions!" he overheard one of the boys saying.

"Are you kidding? Quidditch matches are going to be far more entertaining than any schoolwork," said the girl.

"I just want to explore, my dad says there are all kinds of secret passageways hidden around the school," said the other boy.

The first, dark haired boy turned to Tom, "What about you?"

Tom startled at being included in their conversation. He hadn't thought he was close enough for that.

He considered, "Charms seems the most practical, but Transfiguration is the most interesting."

The boy grinned, "Actually Transfiguration can be much more useful than it seems at first, my mum-"

"Ugh, great," interrupted the girl, rolling her eyes, a teasing smile playing about her mouth, "Another one."

"C'mon, Druella. It might not be interesting to us, but we have to have someone to mooch homework off of," said the blond boy.

Tom bristled. He was not going to do other people's homework. "If you can't be bothered to pay attention in class I hardly see how that's my problem," he said, calmly.

"Oh look! A stuck-up snob!" Druella cooed.

"Oh look, a bratty moron," Tom replied, deadpan. Between his inexpressive face and unwavering eye contact, he was sure he struck an unsettling image. He was pretty proud of that.

The girl scoffed, "Between your bad attitude, your obviously muggle name, and your face not working right, you're not going to make any friends at all."

"I don't need friends."

The dark haired boy muttered under his breath, "That's obvious."

Tom turned his stare on him. The boy met his eyes easily.

Tom's temper flared, rushing hot through him, but he bit it down. There was something more important here, he realised. The same thing that was making him so mad.

These people weren't intimidated by him at all. Despite carrying himself like a stone wall, despite his unfriendliness, despite the vitriol that poured off him in waves, these kids weren't scared. They didn't even blink.

They didn't think for a heartbeat that he could hurt them.

He had no reputation here, neither good nor bad nor… anything.

He was nobody.

He was nothing.

The thought dragged behind him throughout his morning, nipping at his heels and lurking behind corners.

"Mr Riddle."

As ugly as the thought felt, at least at Wools he had some semblance of respect, of power. There, everyone knew him, everyone was wary of him. Being feared felt so much better than being ignored.

"Mr Riddle!"

Tom blinked up at the slight, fidgety woman frowning down at him. He couldn't remember her name.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked.

"Mr Riddle, please demonstrate Colovaria. I trust you've been paying attention?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

He was very glad that he'd already read through his spellbooks a few times. Colovaria, he remembered, was the colour-change spell. Simple for him, he'd already been doing this one wandlessly.

It occurred to Tom then that even if he couldn't impress his classmates, he could absolutely impress his teachers. He was clever, and had already been practicing magic. He was better than everyone here and these people should know it.

He aimed his wand at the plain grey paperweight on his desk, and changed it to a scintillating yellow that blended into orange at the bottom, looking like a sunset.

"Well done, Mr Riddle!" the Professor exclaimed, looking both pleased and surprised, "Five points to Slytherin."

Tom smiled.


The next class wasn't until after lunch, so while all his classmates ran off to play, Tom made his way to the library.

The library itself was huge, towering bookshelves formed alleys against the walls, each almost overflowing with all manner of books on every subject, each unique. There were hardcovers, leather covers, gold lettering, no lettering, even fur bound, and he was pretty sure one growled at him. The selection put Flourish and Blotts to shame.

What didn't fit on the shelves was piled high on tables, some so tall and unbalanced they should have fallen over. Between the shelves were overstuffed plush chairs covered in soft, fluffy cushions, clearly intended for long hours of reading.

But he wasn't here for the books. With a heavy heart and a promise to come back later and dig up its secrets, Tom walked up to the librarian.

The bespectacled man was seated behind a high desk made of dark wood, writing on a sheet of parchment with a plumed quill.

"Excuse me, sir," Tom said. His head barely cleared the height of the desk, surely that was intentional, to give the librarian a sense of superiority. He'd like a desk like that one day. Or maybe it was just to keep a better watch over the frankly enormous room.

The man didn't hear him.

"Excuse me," Tom repeated, louder. If he got in trouble for yelling in the library after this he was going to-

"Yes, how can I help you?" the man asked, peering down at him.

"I'm looking for records of past students."

"Whatever do you need those for?"

Tom didn't respond to that.

"Children have no respect these days," the man grumbled under his breath before continuing in a normal voice, "Student records are kept with the senior staff, I suggest you speak with Professor Dumbledore, the Deputy Headmaster."

Dumbledore again. Fine.

"How may I find his office?"


Dumbedore's office was weird. The auburn bearded man sat behind a normal wooden desk, stacked with normal paperwork, and about four strange, beeping, blooping, bubbling gadgets. One was literally blowing bubbles into the air.

Tom didn't like Dumbledore, or more precisely he was wary of him. The trip to Diagon Alley was fine, and he had proved a decent hand at supervising without being overbearing. But Tom couldn't exactly forget that the man had not even hesitated to set his closet on fire at the first sign of 'misbehaviour', even if it was just a trick meant to scare them.

He hesitated in the doorway, having second thoughts about this.

"Ah, Tom, it's good to see you," Dumbledore called out, "Come in."

Tom walked in. There was a chair right across from Dumbledore, it looked comfortable, inviting even. He didn't want to sit down.

Dumbledore held up a small glass bowl of hard black and white striped sweets, "Would you like a humbug?"

"No, thank you."

Dumbledore put the bowl down. "Are you settling in alright?"

"I am, Professor. Thank you."

"You and your classmates are getting along?"

"Yes, Professor," Tom lied. He swallowed nervously, why couldn't he just ask what he wanted to ask? Why was this so hard?

"What can I do for you?" Dumbledore asked.

"I want to see the school records from the last couple of generations."

"There are an awful lot of things that count as school records. May I ask what you're looking for?"

"Ginny's parents attended Hogwarts. I want to look for them, their grades, pictures of them, maybe one of them won an award."

"Helping out your friend is a good cause, Tom. I might be able to help you."

He waved his wand at an open trunk overflowing with bound papers.

A wall of parchment flew out of the trunk and arranged itself into a neat stack on Dumbledore's desk.

"Here we are, student attendance, grades, and achievements, from 1907 to 1924," he said, as he dumped the stack of parchment and leather bound books into Tom's arms.

Tom wavered from the weight of it, boggling at the size of the pile.

"Would you like help sorting through it all, or would you like to do so yourself?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously behind his half-moon glasses.

Tom clutched at the stack and shook his head, he didn't need anyone's help. "No, thank you. I can do it."

He turned to leave. He took two steps, then turned back around.

"Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled, "You're welcome, Tom."

The safest place to rummage through a pile of papers and parchment was almost certainly the library, so that's where he headed, stack held securely in his arms.

It took hours to sift through it all, but Tom was set in his task. He wouldn't skip classes, but he absolutely would skip both the remainder of his free time and lunch.

In the end, he was greeted with some information he wasn't sure what to do with: No one named Griffiths had attended Hogwarts in this time frame.

He changed tacks. Perhaps Ginny had a non-magical father, and he was the one named Griffiths. He had no way of knowing what Ginny's mum's maiden name was, but he could search for something else notable. Red hair was passed down through families and was really rare, that was a likely trait to search for.

That didn't work. There was only one family of red-haired wizards, and there were no Weasley girls.

Perhaps her parents had her when they were older? That was unlikely, her mum would have to be more than thirty for that, and that was dangerous, or so he'd heard.

Ginny had said she had siblings, perhaps he could get some different records from Dumbledore, although with a seventeen year range one would think at least the eldest sibling would show up.

It didn't seem to matter which avenue he looked through, the result was the same.

Ginny was lying about something. He just wasn't quite sure what.