It was a stormy summer's afternoon when a man by the name of Albus Dumbledore first looked upon Wool's Orphanage. It hadn't been hard to find and he could see many older children, obviously the product of the muggles' "great war" as he'd heard them calling it. They looked at him with a sort of innocent curiosity that only children could give, no matter how horrid their conditions or situation. Part of the man wanted to whisk them all away and make them happy, take them from this horrid place.

But he couldn't. Nonetheless, he offered them a small smile and stepped into the orphanage. A woman was berating a child that apparently muddied the floors and he waited patiently by the door before the woman took note of him, sending the child on their way.

"'Ello, now who are you?" The lady asked, putting her hands on her hips in irritation, booking a face that was stern enough to remind Albus of a particularly fierce dog. Instead of looking cowed, he simply increased his smile and held out a hand.

"Professor Dumbledore. Our institution sent a letter regarding Mr. Riddle's possible enrollment-" Despite the fact that she'd taken his hand cautiously and begun to shake it, she dropped it almost instantly once the words were out of his mouth and she shook her head.

"That's fine and dandy but like the rest of the lot here at Wool's, Tom don't have no money to afford to be heading off to any "institution" or the such and we said as much in the letter when we sent it back." She waved her hands, clearly intent on shooing the man back out the door, but the ginger man held fast and continued giving his most indulgent smile.

"Actually, the school would be willing to offer Mr. Riddle a scholarship of sorts, as well as aid in purchasing materials."

This seemed to bring the lady to a pause and she gave an impatient sigh and gestured to the stairs. "Fine, fine, he should be up this way in the room for the younger boys. Y'can call me Mrs. Cole, professir."

Albus merely gave another pleasant smile, adjusting his glasses as he chose to ignore the irritated manner she interacted with him, and her general silence as she led to one of the rooms gave him time to take in the halls and the rooms he passed after coming to the landing.

It wasn't so bad for an orphanage, considering how derelict and disheveled some orphanages could be. The floors appeared to have been mopped recently and while the walls lacked decoration or ornament of any kind, they were relatively clean and appeared to have been painted not too long ago. As the professor passed by the rooms, he could see beds stacked and dressers over pouring with clothes that hadn't been put away, some odd and broken toys on the ground, a few children playing with paper dolls. It was an orphanage after all, and he hadn't expected it to be a lively and happy home, but for the place it was, it could certainly have been worse.

Coming to a halt behind Mrs. Cole, he paused as she knocked on the closed door before opening it, peeking her head in only to open the door completely. "There's a man here t'see you Tom, put tha book away and try t'look smart." Mrs. Cole stepped from the doorway, leaving the professor to get a better look inside.

Like some of the ones he'd passed by in the hall, it was clearly shared by several boys, with bunk beds and some old dressers taking up the wall and floor space. One ragged bookcase took up the rest of the free room and the boy in question seem to have a worn tome in his hands, stretched out on his stomach on the bottom bunk of one of the beds. Albus gave another one of his trademark smiles, taking a few steps closer to the bed. This was the first time he'd seen Tom, of course, so he took in the sight of the boy that would likely be a future student of his. He was tall, perhaps a little taller than most boys at the ripe age of eleven, even if that did make him look a bit thin for a growing boy. At first glance you'd be stuck somewhere between believing the boy to be utterly plain, or intriguing edged on attractive. His black hair was combed back just so, and Albus caught sight of dark eyes that were watching him with a mixture of distrust and curiosity.

"Hello Tom." Albus lowered himself to take a seat on one of the lower beds that sat across from Tom's along the opposite wall.

Tom's large dark eyes blinked rather owlishly at him and he folded the corner of the book he was reading, closing it quietly before turning to give the older man his full attention. "Hello sir."

"Tom, I'm a professor at a school for people like you and I, and we were quite hoping you might come and study there."

Tom, for his part, just blinked at the older man. He looked to where Mrs. Cole had been in the doorway, but she had already drifted off, likely checking up on one of the other children or scolding someone. "Like what?" he said instead, looking back to the man.

Professor Dumbledore (which sounded like a fake name to Tom, like one from some of the fairy-tales) frowned and tilted his head questioningly. "What do you mean, like what?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. "You said, 'a school for people like you and I,' like what?" He said, parroting back the man's words to him.

Professor Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "Have you ever noticed you can do anything special?" He asked.

"I can do my multiplication faster than everyone in class," He said, just a bit cheekily. He didn't know the man, and whatever school he was here to represent, it wouldn't likely want anything to do with him. People like him, places like that, they weren't for poor orphan boys.

"I mean magic, Tom," the professor said.

Tom frowned and shook his head, ignoring the flutter in his chest. Sure, he'd done some stuff, but like Mrs. Cole always said, he had a good imagination, and no matter how much proof he offered, no one had ever believed he could actually talk to the snakes once they weren't little kids anymore. "Magic's not real, sir, everyone knows that."

Professor Dumbledore smiled and leaned forward, almost acting like he was going to tell Tom some grand secret. Tom didn't like it, didn't like the way the man was acting like he was one of the little kids that needed a nanny constantly hovering over them, too stupid to understand what was going on.

"Haven't you ever done anything special?" He pressed quietly, "Something that shouldn't be able to, something you couldn't explain or reason away?"

Tom frowned and looked at his hands in thought. If it was real, which, let's be honest, was too much to hope for, then he was fine telling the man the truth. If it was real, well, a few things could happen, he could be shipped off to one of the mental hospitals that they stuck crazy people in, or he could be sent to another orphanage, maybe they would say he was too crazy to be around the other kids?

"No," he said, with a shake of his head, "Why? Do you think you can do magic?"

The professor smiled at him and shrugged. "Do you want me to prove it?"

Tom nodded his head, feeling just a bit smug, still ignoring the hopeful fluttering in his chest.

Professor Dumbledore pulled a long stick out of his sleeve, and Tom watched as he delicately waved it. Several of the clothes that were hanging from the dresser drawers lifted. Tom's eyes widened in wonder as he watched the clothes fold themselves. The drawers pulled themselves open and the clothes gently deposited themselves down into their proper spots, and then the drawers closed and The dresser sat still.

Tom whipped his head around to stare at the older man and then jumped off the bed, darting to the dresser to look at it. It couldn't be real- it had to be a trick of some kind, right?

"Is that proof enough for you?" Professor Dumbledore asked cheerfully, twirling the stick in between his fingers, "Or shall we sort the bookcase by name too?"

Tom turned and looked back at him, still touching the dresser as if it would disappear if he let it go. "I can talk to snakes-" He said and before he could stop himself he continued, "And I can sometimes make stuff move- I can make Billy's rabbit listen to me, and once I accidentally set Amy's hair on fire after she pushed me down the front steps and scratched up my knee."

He stopped and closed his mouth. Professor Dumbledore was giving him an appraising look, like some of the teachers at the school did when he proved to be too smart at something or did something he wasn't supposed to be able to do for his age. "Mrs. Cole said I was imagining things," he added lamely.

"You weren't," The professor consoled, "Mrs. Cole is just a muggle- someone who can't do magic," he explained when Tom made a confused face. "That's why I've come to tell you about Hogwarts, it's a school for wizards and witches."

Tom shook his head, the balloon in his stomach suddenly deflating, "I haven't got any money to go to a proper school," he said, just a bit sullenly.

"You don't have to worry about that," Professor Dumbledore said, standing up. "The school has a fund for those who need assistance," he explained, pulling a thick envelope from his the inside of his suit jacket. He held it out to Tom and Tom greedily grabbed it up. "That's your acceptance letter, and the supply list inside has everything you need for your classes written on it."

Tom tried his best not to tune the older man out just a bit as he spoke, but he was rereading the words on the parchment paper for the third time, soaking them in. He looked to the second page that was behind the first and looked through the materials.

"Where would I get all this?" Tom asked the man, looking up and then back to the sheet. "Is there a special school shop, or place I need to go for it all?"

"Excellent question," Professor Dumbledore said, "There's a row of shops in London that muggles cannot see or get to, they should have everything you need."

"And… the school will pay for the supplies?" Tom asked again, still hesitant. It was all too good to be true, too amazing to be real.

"Yes, of course, though we will visit some of the secondhand stores for the robes and school books, they can get to be rather expensive," The professor explained.

Tom read through the list again and then stood up. "Can we go now then?" He asked, trying to contain his excitement.

Professor Dumbledore's smile widened, "I'm sorry my boy, I have other students I need to go see, more letters to deliver," He paused when he saw the look on Tom's face and patted the boy on the shoulder. "I usually schedule a time to make sure the student's parents come along as well, but we shan't bring Mrs. Cole along, so how about I return on Monday, and we shall take our trip then?"

Tom deflated a bit, but nodded his head slowly. "Are there other kids that don't know they're wizards?" he asked.

"Several, yes," Professor Dumbledore said with a nod, "We call them muggleborn, since they are born to muggles, and we explain it to them just like I came and explained it to you."

"Okay then," Tom said quietly, folding the paper delicately back and sliding it back into the envelope. "What time on Monday?"

"Not to be dissuaded, I see," the professor said, a slight twinkle in his eyes. Tom was quite certain he was the type of man who carried sweets in his pockets and patted children on their heads when they were being good. "Monday at nine, you can top off with breakfast and then we'll spend the rest of the day shopping."

Tom nodded his head more enthusiastically. "Yes, sir."

"Good," Professor Dumbledore held his hand out and Tom reached out, trying to grip the older man's hand as securely as he could. "Have a good weekend, Tom."