AN: Don't own anything thanks for any reviews I get in advance if I get any that is. My grammar and spelling really need working on but my beta reader Martin is very busy at the moment. Here it is. In this chapter we learn about Tom and his family and someone pays a visit to the orphanage.

Rain poured down heavily that evening on February 6th 1926 in the heart of East London and on Vauxhall Road a man approached a large square building that had obviously seen better days judging by its innate shabbiness. The man strode up the sweeping steps and knocked heavily on the door which was soon opened by a small round plump woman with a squeaky voice. She held the door slightly ajar, enough so she could see and hear the speaker without allowing him to come in or see inside the building.

'I am aware that tonight you admitted a young pregnant woman,'

The man was tall and thin with wispy auburn hair; his blue eyes sparkled despite the fact that the moon was at bay hidden behind some clouds. The young receptionist at the Vauxhall Road orphanage nodded but refused to let the stranger in.

'What's it to you, what's your business here Sir,' she said shrewdly, barely opening the door ajar.

'I am merely concerned for the young girl's welfare,'

'Troubled times these though Sir,' she replied squeakily 'don't know who could be listening or walking up your garden path, that Mr Chamberlain he said-'

'I am aware Madam, these are indeed times of great turmoil among our European sisters but please, let me see the child,' the stranger urged, now taking of his top hat and pleading.

'Child, How'd you know she were pregnant?' the secretary said curiously 'are you the fella who dropped her off here and then disappeared when he bombs struck?'

'I can assure you, that I knew less of Mrs Riddle tonight than I have any prior knowledge of her whereabouts before this evening,' the stranger explained 'at least let me in madam, I need a good cup of tea,'

The woman eyed him, looking him up and down she decided he did not look threatening nor dangerous but once the stranger was inside she instantly informed her boss and owner of the orphanage, Mrs Cole.

The stranger stood in the vast hallway admiring the bareness and shabbiness of the place, thinking to himself that this was no fit place to bring up a boy wizard. But never the less it was a roof over his head and most likely better than any real type of life his mother caudle given him, he was sure of that much.

Mrs Cole came bustling out of her office, looking rather disgruntled at having been disturbed from whatever it was she had been doing, and by all accounts she looked like she had been crying.

'My name is Albus Dumbledore; I believe you have received a new occupant as early as tonight? A young girl died in childbirth here is that not correct?'

Mrs Cole looked stunned and looked at the other young woman, Cecilia who had opened the door to Dumbledore.

'How did you know that?'

'I assure you my only interest in Mrs Riddle was entirely professional, I am concerned for her, I knew she was carrying the baby and there is far too much to explain to make any sense of it,' Dumbledore explained, fiddling with his hat nervously almost.

'Come in to my office Mr Bumblmore,'

'Dumbledore,' the young wizard corrected her

'These posh up town lads with fancy names, well follow me and we will discuss young Tom Riddle,'

Miles away from east end London in the village of Little Hangleton Tom Riddle senior trudged through the village gaily but slightly confused all the same, he was glad to be home again He wandered past the village pub, the butcher and the baker. He passed some girls further along the high street and thought them most peculiar as they pointed and whispered at him.

'Mind your own business,' Tom said angrily, annoyed at the unwanted attention from youths who could hardly call themselves anything above working class.

'I'll see you get reported to the King,'

The girls then began to laugh, but Tom chose to ignore them and get home instead as he had a lot of explaining to do where his father was concerned. Tom remembered the days when he had commanded respect in this village, and obviously some of it had worn away since he had been gone. He couldn't remember exactly how long he had been gone.

As he approached the house he saw Frank the gardener tending to his mothers precious roses at the forefront of the long beautifully tendered lawns sweeping there way down the hill away fro the house.

Frank had to blink several times, daring to believe that the young master had returned home after such a long peculiar absence. Tom smiled weakly at the aging gardener who just gawped before realising this was the young master he was gaping at.

'Pardon me, my lord, not my place to stare,' Frank mumbled

'Are my parents in,' he asked timidly

'No young master, they are not. If I was you-'

'Well you aren't Frank,'

'Sorry young master, if I'm not too bold in saying so young master you gave your father a right fright-'Frank began

'Yes Frank, that was too bold, finish with the roses then come inside, I wish to have a cup of tea before my parents get home and I must ring poor Cecilia and explain why I have been gone for so long,' Tom snapped and walked swiftly into the house.

Frank returned to his roses, and stemmed the last few before putting them neatly in the terracotta pots buried in the flower beds. Finishing up quickly, Frank tried to imagine how nice it would be now that Master Tom was back but somehow he could not see it being any different as to the last time he was here. He hadn't changed one tiny bit and Frank felt even more bitter than usual as he walked up to the house to once again wait hand and foot on his young master.