Down in the deepest reaches of the castle dungeons, a group of boys gathered in a disused chamber. Tom Riddle leaned back in the ornate chair that he'd transfigured from a broken bench and watched the others settle into their seats. They pulled out books, scrolls, inks, and quills from school bags, talking quietly to one another as they placed the items onto the table. To any idle observer or a nosy caretaker, they were merely a group of boys finding a quiet place to study. The older boys there to help the younger ones, the academically gifted helping those less so.

Once they'd settled, Tom rose to his feet. "In the name of our Great Founder, Salazar Slytherin," he intoned, the light from the lit torches dancing across his face. "We, your most loyal followers, gather here in your name. You who were the most powerful, the wisest, and the most able of the four Founders, grant us the strength and the courage to continue your work. We have not forgotten. Let us not be swayed from the task ahead of us by sentiment or misplaced loyalty, for what we do is for the betterment of the Wizarding World."

When each of the boys around the table responded with, "In Salazar's name, our Lord," Tom sat and nodded for Mulcibar to begin.

Mulcibar shuffled his papers. "This year, five new Mudblood students were enrolled into Hogwarts. It brings the tally to twenty-seven. They were sorted thus; three into Hufflepuff, one into Gryffindor, and one into Ravenclaw. I'll distribute a list of names to each of you."

"Glad to hear that none are in Slytherin this time," Avery said quietly. He took two lists, one for himself and one for a younger sister who'd just started at Hogwarts. "Apart from that idiot Travers, we're unsullied."

"Travers knows he's persona non grata," Malfoy replied without looking up from the list he was examining. "It's not as if he's made friends."

"I think it's time we increased the pressure on him." Antonin Dolohov, his arms resting on the table, leaned forward. His face was alight with mischief. "He's getting too friendly with some of the Slytherin girls... Buffy Summers, in particular."

Tom noted the way Dolohov's eyes moved to him when he said Buffy's name. The older boy had witnessed the scene between Tom, Buffy, and Caradoc in the library. Was he trying to stir up trouble? His gaze remained on Dolohov, who shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

Further along the table, Marcus Lestrange laughed. Tom's attention went from the French-born wizard to the younger boy.

"...friendly?" Lestrange was saying, "Uma Crabbe threw an egg into his face!"

Tom glanced back at Dolohov, whose attention was now on Lestrange.

"...it splattered all over him and he ran off crying." Lestrange chuckled again. "You can count on a Crabbe to put a Mudblood in their place. She won't allow him to insult her friends."

Tom raised an eyebrow at that. He'd heard the girls' laughter and seen Travers' fast exit but hadn't realised that it all stemmed from an insult. "Insulted?" he asked. "Who was insulted?"

Lestrange replied, "He insulted Buffy."

"And what was the insult?" Tom asked, dipping his quill into the inkwell and making a small note about Travers on the papers in front of him.

Lestrange smirked. "Uma told Buffy that she had a lot of Veela-like qualities. Buffy replied she wasn't sure if it was a compliment as the Veela have a habit of driving wizards insane. That's when Travers insulted her. He said it wouldn't surprise him if Buffy was part Veela as she stunk of insanity. Hence," he chuckled, "the egg in his face." He snorted a laugh. "I guess the yolk was on him."

The knights half-groaned and half-grinned. No one liked Travers; they'd spent the last four years making his life a misery.

Instead of smiling at Lestrange's joke, Tom cocked his head and regarded the auburn-haired boy from beneath his long dark lashes. "How do you know this, Lestrange? You weren't present at breakfast."

The merriment died, and the atmosphere turned tense as the knights turned curious eyes on Marcus Lestrange.

"My Lord," Lestrange replied smoothly, "I wasn't. I overheard Fiona talking about it in class and Uma filled me in on all the details."

Tom nodded, and Lestrange went on. "Uma believes that Travers is sweet on Buffy and insults her to draw her attention."

Tom turned the idea over in his mind and discarded it. Travers seemed more confused than attracted to Buffy. He'd even seen him cringing when she went to sit near him.

"I said that he was getting over-friendly," Dolohov pointed out.

"Fiona Goyle doesn't believe he likes Buffy." Lestrange leaned forward, ignoring Dolohov and addressing Tom. "She says that Crabbe is a romantic and sees love affairs where there aren't any. She says Travers is annoyed because they sit near him."

Tom thought that Goyle's theory was sounder than Crabbe's. Travers was a loner and a Mudblood who'd never tried making friends amongst the Slytherins. It was far more likely that he was insulting Buffy in the hope of driving her away and that would be to Tom's benefit. Once Buffy grew tired of being insulted, she'd move further up the table and be closer to Tom.

With that in mind, Tom spoke directly to Dolohov. "I want Travers left alone. Do you hear me?"

The French-born wizard nodded.

"And what about the new intake of Mudbloods?" Victor Avery asked petulantly. No doubt puzzled at the way they'd drifted off-topic. "Do we leave those alone too?"

"No."

Although this year's intake of Mudbloods irked him less than it usually did, it wouldn't do to lose the support of the knights. Tom's smile became a roguish one few could resist. The trick to keeping them on his side was having them believe they were getting their own way.

"I think it's time we let the younger Slytherins have a little fun, don't you?"

Those around him nodded, pleased that the Mudblood baiting would be continued and happy to involve their younger family members.

Tom smirked – not with them as they thought, but at them. Playing people was what he excelled at. This year his plans were more important than baiting Muggleborns. Plans that none of the knights knew anything about. This year he'd find his mother's family, discover more on horcruxes, locate the Chamber of Secrets, and learn more about Buffy. Nothing and no one would stand in his way.

He turned to Malfoy, asking the question he'd wanted the answer to since the start of the meeting. "What have you discovered about the Durmstrang transfer, Caradoc Dearborn?"

Malfoy took a sheet of paper from the pile, its surface covered in names and information. "He's the only child of Berwyn Dearborn, Pureblood, and a Muggleborn mother, Victoria Harding. They met at Hogwarts when they were both sorted into Gryffindor, married straight out of school, and work for the Ministry. Rumour has it they've a well-filled Gringotts' vault courtesy of his mother's inheritance..."

Anger and jealousy burned through Tom. So the handsome Caradoc Dearborn not only had the benefit of a Dark Arts education but came from a secure, well-off home with the entire attention of magical parents? It wasn't fair. All he had was a dead witch mother, poverty, and emptiness.

"...I've no idea what job they're doing now," Malfoy continued. "They previously worked as Inter-Aurors for the SOS Task Force in Europe."

"Grindelwald hates that lot," Taric Mulciber remarked quietly to Victor Avery. Tom overheard him.

Grindelwald! Tom's head shot up, recalling something Mulciber had said during the carriage ride to the castle. "Didn't you tell us that Grindelwald's acolyte, Von Kendrick, is missing?" he asked Mulciber. The boy was always bragging about the relatives who fought on Grindelwald's side.

Mulciber nodded somewhat glumly. "Von Kendrick vanished over the summer and Grindelwald is absolutely livid. Rumour is... Von Kendrick made one attack too many and he's lying low until it all blows over. They say he's been experimenting on Muggleborns, trying to find the source of their magic. Uncle reckons he's angered someone high up and it's created a wedge between him and Grindelwald."

"He was the one behind the attack in London," said Malfoy, his eyes on Tom, expression thoughtful. "The one in which Buffy Summers and her mother were caught in."

Tom nodded. Abraxas knew Tom wanted details on the attack and that the American transfer interested him. The rest of the knights waited, ignorant and expecting to hear more. When Tom didn't bother to explain, Malfoy took over.

"Miss Summers and her mother were injured during the summer. A lot of Muggles were killed, a building destroyed, and Von Kendrick was the perpetrator."

Tom ignored the exclamations coming from around the table, and asked, "Does anyone else find it interesting that the son of two Inter-Aurors transfers from Durmstrang to Hogwarts at the same time as Buffy? Has he been sent here to spy on us?" He made sure to say 'us' instead of Buffy.

There were more dark mutterings from around the table. No one liked the idea they were being spied on. Whatever he was here for, Caradoc Dearborn would be viewed with suspicion from now on.

Addressing Mulciber, Tom asked, "These experiments that Von Kendrick was conducting... Do you know if they involved Squibs?"

Mulciber began to shake his head and then stopped. "Uncle just talked of Muggleborns. Squibs though... I can see why he'd not want to broadcast it if he was experimenting on them. But if you think about it... he's bound to be as interested in why magic doesn't appear as why it does."

"I overheard the Lovegood boy talking," said Victor Avery. "Buffy's magic only appeared this summer. What if Von Kendrick had planned to kidnap the pair of them knowing they were Squibs and something went wrong?"

"Abraxas, you have the report, don't you?" Tom asked.

"Sadly, it's only a brief summary" replied Malfoy apologetically. "Father wasn't able to access the file despite approaching several colleagues. The information is on a need-to-know only."

He took another sheet from the pile, laid it onto the table, and began reading from it. "Whilst on an unrelated call-out in Muggle London, the two Aurors, Clogg and Moody, spotted Von Kendrick in the street. They tailed him, following him onto the Underground, through the streets, and finally into a store." Malfoy stopped and looked up. "The report is classified from then on. In short, it seems he realised that he was being followed, Moody went for reinforcements, Clogg was killed before they got there, and Buffy and her mother were listed amongst the injured."

"The Aurors questioned Buffy," said Tom. He didn't mention she'd been at his orphanage at the time or that he'd seen the Aurors leaving. "Miss Summers told me the injuries she sustained caused amnesia and neither she or her mother remembered anything about the attack."

Dolohov let out a sarcastic laugh. "Could it be because her father is Dumbledore?"

Just the thought of it made Tom grimace. "I doubt it," he retorted. "She hasn't got his great broken beak of a nose."

The rest of the table chuckled.

Dolohov went on, seemingly not knowing when to stop, "Yes, I can just see Grindelwald telling Von Kendrick that he must capture her to ensure he had leverage over his old friend. When he failed Von Kendrick decided to lay low for a while." Dolohov smiled, showing a set of white teeth in his swarthy face. "Or maybe Von Kendrick was trying to do the Wizarding world a favour and find a use for the pathetic Squibs we occasionally produce? "

Tom stared down at the table top. Dolohov had always been a conceited Pureblood, but this meeting he'd become intolerable.

Dolohov laughed again. "...we all know little Summers is a nobody and I plan to have fun with her this year."

Tom's head shot up.

"I'm keen to explore her..." Dolohov made a lewd gesture, "possibilities."

Magic churned inside Tom. Magic desperately seeking release. It felt so strong. It felt as though a primitive animal was clawing away at his intestines. During his time before Hogwarts, when he'd become angry or scared, this was how his magic had felt before it manifested. Then things around him would happen. He was older now and had learned to control his powerful magic, but sometimes, like now, he found it difficult. As Tom fought to keep control of the power surging through him, Lestrange took over the conversation.

He leaned forward, his eyes on Dolohov. "Are you planning on emotionally destroying her like you did to that Ravenclaw girl?" Lestrange asked, his lip curled with distaste at the memory. "If so, let me tell you now that my father has a personal interest in her. He has a file with her name on it."

The magic inside of Tom paused in its clawing, arrested by this interesting titbit. Why would Minister Lestrange have a personal file on Buffy?

"Who cares?" drawled Dolohov, leaning back in his chair with a sneer on his face.

"How dare you! I care." Marcus Lestrange looked angrier than Tom had ever seen him. He'd half-risen out of his seat, glaring over at the French-born wizard. "And my father will as well, when I tell him what you're up to."

Dolohov's face darkened at the threat. His shoulder twitched, and Tom knew the hand Dolohov hid beneath the table held a wand, ready for use on Lestrange.

Tom let out a sharp hiss. The sound echoed around the chamber, a direct insult on Dolohov's paternity. Dolohov had no hope of understanding it as it was in parseltongue, yet it reminded Dolohov, and the rest of the knights, who the rightful Heir to Slytherin was.

"What do you know about Miss Summers, Marcus?" Tom asked quietly. It was obvious the Minister's son knew more about Buffy than he was letting on.

Lestrange continued staring at Dolohov, so focussed he didn't hear the young Dark Lord's question. "Father only keeps personal files on those of importance," Marcus said coldly. "It means Buffy isn't a nobody, and neither the Lestranges nor the Blacks will tolerate you toying with her."

Tom blinked at that statement. He'd known the Blacks had a vested interest in her since she'd rescued Rigel, but now Marcus was saying the Lestranges were aligning themselves with her? Why? He sat straighter in his chair, happy to let this conversation continue without interrupting.

Malfoy was next to surprise Tom. The blonde sneered at Dolohov. "You need to be careful, Dolohov. I'll not stand by either if you try treating Miss Summers like a Mudblood whore."

A strand of his long, pale hair dropped across his face and he pushed it back irritably. "She might be an American and a Lovegood, but the Hat has placed her into Slytherin and as such she is one of us. If you harm her, you'll find that you've crossed a lot of people who are happy to take revenge."

Dolohov scowled. "You can't talk. You play with the Slytherin girls."

"Ha! Unlike you, I don't lie and say I've fallen in love like you did to Muriel MacDonald," Abraxas replied.

That caused another frisson of surprise to go through Tom. Abraxas Malfoy remembered a Mudblood's name? Not that Tom had forgotten it either, but Malfoy? He'd never have believed a Blood Elitist like Malfoy would have cared enough to remember the name of a Muggleborn.

Malfoy paused and then added roughly, "Nor have I ever forced myself on a girl like you have."

There was a deep silence. Dolohov looked around the table, seeing the emotionless faces. They'd all heard the rumours. Dolohov showed his teeth again and then raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Fine. Have it your way, Buffy-."

"Missss Summersss to you," corrected Tom, an intimidating hiss stealing out as he spoke her name.

The older boy swallowed, his Adam's apple rising and falling in his throat. "Fine. I won't play with the affections of Miss Summers. My behaviour will be strictly honourable around her."

Despite him being outnumbered – despite the warnings – something in the way he spoke made Tom believe that Dolohov hadn't given up on his scheming. Why? What was driving this? Tom decided he needed watching. He'd speak to Malfoy later and arrange it.

Tom put Dolohov from his mind and turned his attention back to Lestrange. "Why has your father a file on Buffy, Marcus? Any idea of the contents?" He'd love to know what was in there.

Lestrange frowned, picking up a quill from the table and running it through his fingers. "I don't know. Father files are heavily warded and it would take an accomplished Cursebreaker to break them. I only know about Buffy and her mother's because I was called into his study and they were lying on his desk." He shot Dolohov another dark look and repeated, "He only keeps files on people who have special importance to the Wizarding World, not nobodies."

So the Lestranges thought Buffy and her mother were important to the Wizarding World? Why? Tom filed away that information and concentrated on what he did know. The attack on Buffy by Grindelwald's missing General.

"What about the attack in London?" Tom asked. "Could the Summers family have been the targets?" If anyone knew Grindelwald and Von Kendrick's motives, it would be the Minister for International Magical Law.

There was the slightest hesitation. "I don't know," said Lestrange.

But the slight pause had been enough. Tom leaned forward, his focus completely on the other boy. Lestrange tried to jerk his eyes away from Tom's but it was too late. Tom clearly saw Marcus Lestrange was hiding something.

"Tell me."

Marcus swallowed, his fingers twisting into the cuffs of his robe. "Joyce Lovegood's file goes back years. It's much thicker than Buffy's. This thick." He pointed to the papers in front of him. "Buffy's is newer. When I entered father's study I saw he'd been adding information to it about the attack. I think it was the injury report from the Muggle hospital, there were a lot of graphs, and some strange pictures of her bones which I think the Muggles call x-rays. He..." Lestrange stopped and frowned unhappily at Tom.

"Go on," said Tom softly.

"He's paying me to report back on her," Marcus said in a rush. "He wants to know the subjects she's taking, what her grades are like, the type of people she makes friends with, and any... peculiarities."

Tom cocked his head, "Why?"

Lestrange shook his head. "He didn't say."

"What did he say?" pressed Tom. There must be more if the Lestranges were backing her.

"Only that I should befriend her. That she could prove useful to us in future. He said he needs to know who and what upset her, if she shows any signs of political ambition, her views on Muggles and the Statute of Secrecy, and so on." Lestrange frowned. "To be honest, she seems clueless to me, but father wouldn't have a file on her if she was."

"Salazar!" Malfoy exclaimed. "She might be Dumbledore's long lost daughter after all."

This time no one laughed.

…..

Professor Albus Dumbledore walked along the corridor towards the library, his mind on the mountain of marking he needed to do and the lesson plans he had to prepare. Each year, he tailored the first-year lesson plans specifically for the new students. This year, most seemed to be of average abilities, although he'd spotted a Muggleborn Ravenclaw who'd picked up Transfiguration extremely quickly and bore watching.

He felt secretly pleased that Caradoc Dearborn had been sorted into Gryffindor. The affable boy had transferred from Durmstrang with a solid grounding in all his subjects and a liking for Transfiguration. Dumbledore, who'd taught his talented parents, had expected nothing less from Berwyn and Victoria Dearborn's son. Their boy was bound to be an asset to Gryffindor House.

Dumbledore's mind then drifted to the other transfer student, Buffy Summers. Now that she'd been sorted into Slytherin she was, officially, not his problem. Except that she was.

Unknowingly, Dumbledore picked up his pace. School had only been back a week and twice Buffy had sought him out. The first time she'd been expected, the second time she hadn't...

There'd been a knock on the office door shortly after leaving his bed. Since he'd become Head of his House, this was not an unusual occurrence. He'd often been woken early by a young Gryffindor with an urgent problem. This time it wasn't a Gryffindor, it was Buffy. The young Slytherin looked awkward, slightly shifty, and then rather shocked. The shock had possibly been brought on by him answering the door in his favourite purple dressing gown. Or, perhaps, it was the nightcap he'd taken to wearing, her eyes had darted up to look at it several times. Since Peregrine Lovegood wore a hat with a Charmed bird on the brim, he didn't think a plain tasselled nightcap warranted such a response.

"What might I do for you, Miss Summers? It's rather early and as you can see I -."

She pulled her gaze away from the flashing moon embroidered on the breast pocket of his maroon pyjamas and stared him directly in the eye. He'd noticed already that she'd no fear of doing so, despite him attempting to use Legilimency on her in the past. Dumbledore wasn't sure whether to applaud her bravery or condemn her for it. She couldn't know, but with her strong mind shields, she was definitely 'his' child, Phoenix Patronus or not.

"I'm sorry for getting you out of bed," she said, her eyes now on his fluffy, yellow slippers. "Umm, I came early..."

"That's rather obvious," he stated, feeling a little irritated that his night attire was getting so much attention. He pulled his dressing gown around him self-consciously and tied the belt tighter.

"Yeah, Captain Obvious, that's me."

At his confused look, she blushed. "Can I speak to the Hat again?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath his nightcap. "Again?! Why?"

"It's just the one question, I swear. I should have asked it last night, but it was yammering on, and I... um, totally forgot."

She looked over her shoulder, towards the open corridor, reminding him that she was a student and he was a professor standing in the doorway.

Not wanting to be accused of impropriety, he made her wait outside until he'd dressed. Then he'd invited her into his study, placed the Sorting Hat onto her head once more, and watched as she closed her eyes to begin her inward conversation. It must have only been one question because a moment later she took the hat off and handed it back to him.

"What did it say?" Dumbledore asked, curious at why she'd returned. The Hat had been Charmed by the Founders never to speak of what it saw in the students' heads, there was no use asking it and expecting it to answer.

Buffy smiled. It was the smile of her father's family. Charming, wild, secretive, and oddly elating to see.

Dumbledore had to stop himself from stepping towards her, drawn in by the easy charm of that conspiratorial smile. He reminded himself sternly that Buffy wasn't 'him', no matter how similar she appeared or acted.

Unaware of the effect she was having on the Professor, Buffy leaned closer to Dumbledore, her eyes darting around his office as if searching for eavesdroppers. There was no one else here but Fawkes, asleep on his perch.

Buffy cocked her head, her bright eyes sparkling as she looked into his face. "Do you know how to keep a secret?"

Dumbledore almost exploded with laughter. 'Know how to keep a secret?' His entire life had been full of secrets! There'd been his sister's 'illness', his father's imprisonment, Gellert Grindelwald, and Ariana's death. Even now he was leading a double life as a teacher whilst helping the Ministry track down Grindelwald.

But he told her none of it because a Dumbledore knew how to keep secrets. "Of course," he replied smoothly, keeping the eagerness to learn 'her' secrets out of his voice.

Buffy gave a satisfied nod, rocked back on her heels, and looked up at him through her lashes in a way that was almost teasing. "Good," she said. "So can I!"

'She'd never had any intention of telling him her secrets.' Disappointed, Dumbledore knew he should really give her a talk on appropriate behaviour, but her mischievous expression and merry smile made him feel as if she was sharing a joke. 'Didn't they all have secrets? It was just some people had bigger secrets than others.'

He found himself smiling back at her, indulgently - like a doting father would. Yet, even as he smiled at her merriment, he couldn't help thinking that Buffy was too wild. Society would break her if Hogwarts didn't. It was what she'd be broken into that was the problem.

"I'll see you in Transfiguration," he said knowing that he'd see her first lesson. He moved to the door to open it for her.

"Thanks so much for your help, Professor," Buffy said with all the politeness of a high-born Pureblood. "I appreciate all you've done for me."

And then she'd left his office with the information she'd come for, and he'd felt alone – so very much alone.

Dumbledore gave himself a little mental shake. It was no use dwelling on the past. The library door was just ahead of him and his melancholic mood evaporated in the anticipation of 'new books'. Inside the library, students at the desks looked up when he entered. He ignored them all, heading straight over to the librarian's desk where Professor Boar sat with a scowl on his face.

Once he'd been handed his books, he wandered over to the Ancient Rune section and began browsing the new titles. It was while he was there that a group of boys entered the library. Seeing them, Dumbledore stepped behind a stack, cast a quick disillusionment charm over himself, and then crept forward.

Tom Riddle and his gang had entered the library.

The boy, no, a young man now, Dumbledore corrected himself, stood in front of the other Slytherins with an air of smug confidence. This was not the meek orphan or the helpful prefect persona he used when in sight of his Professors. This was the Tom Riddle Dumbledore had met at the orphanage and the boy he'd been wary of ever since.

Riddle spoke a few words to Malfoy and the young Pureblood nodded, walking off obediently. Tom walked directly past where Dumbledore stood, not seeing his Professor as he politely greeted the other students who called out to him as he moved deeper into the library.

Was he heading for the Restricted Section? Dumbledore had seen him coming out of there the previous year. Fourth-year students weren't normally granted access to those books, and it had worried Dumbledore until Professor Boar said Tom had a pass signed by Slughorn.

With his Disillusionment Charm still in place, Dumbledore slipped around the stacks to follow Tom. He stopped when Tom did, spotted what had made Riddle hesitate and quickly darted behind another set of shelving before he was spotted. Galatea Merrythought had laughed when she'd told him Buffy was able to see through her Disillusionment Charm. She'd claimed Buffy was a 'rare gel' and could have a career chasing Dark Wizards ahead of her. The ability to discern through the Charm was a good one, but Dumbledore didn't want her spotting him stalking Tom.

It seemed Tom Riddle also didn't want to be seen, for he moved behind a stack of books. Dumbledore watched him as he pretended to browse a shelf whilst scanning the students sat with Buffy. Someone at that table made his lips tighten with annoyance. Who? What interested him? Was it Buffy or one of the others?

Rosalind Moody sat on Buffy's right, her quill moving at high speed across her scroll. Across the table, Caradoc Dearborn recited from a Potions textbook with Buffy occasionally interrupting him. Uma Crabbe and Fiona Goyle sat on the other side of Buffy and were also making notes. Occasionally, Uma would jiggle her eyebrows at Buffy and then look across at Caradoc meaningfully. Each time Buffy would roll her eyes and shake her head. Eventually, Caradoc caught one of Uma's humorous looks and he stopped reading to stare at her. Buffy let out a giggle at Uma's look of horror at being caught and Fiona smirked. The only other boy at the table was Lovell Lovegood, he wore a slightly stunned expression of someone who preferred spending time on their own and now found themselves part of a large group.

Dumbledore had always liked the shy Lovell Lovegood. He'd been a conscientious student who'd never disrupted class and consistently produced quality work. He sincerely hoped Buffy wouldn't be a bad influence on him or any of the other students at that table. And then Dumbledore flushed with shame for thinking it. He had to remember that she was not him. There might be a wildness on her father's side of the family, but Buffy also had the Lovegood's quirky disregard for worldliness to temper it.

Over by the other stacks, there was movement. Tom smoothed down his robes, straightened his tie and then walked back out into the centre aisle. He faked an expression of surprise at seeing Buffy and her group. Dumbledore leaned forward, watching him intently.

With a guileless expression, Tom approached Buffy's table. "Hello, can I interrupt you for a moment?" He smiled at them all nervously.

Dumbledore deplored the boy's falseness. He'd no idea how Horace Slughorn could like Riddle so much when there was something so patently dishonest about him.

"Sure," replied Buffy coolly, leaning back in her seat and stroking the feather quill against her cheek as she regarded Riddle.

Dumbledore thought it telling that it was Buffy who answered him and not one of the others. Had Buffy already started gathering followers? If so, she wasn't sticking to a single House. There were Ravenclaws, Slytherins, a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor at her table.

Buffy looked over to that single Gryffindor, and Dumbledore saw why. Caradoc Dearborn was regarding Tom Riddle with a guarded expression.

Tom turned to Dearborn and thrust out his hand. "I'm sorry if we've got off to a bad start," he said. "Would you accept my apology for any offence that I might have caused?"

Riddle smiled. Using those devastating good looks and charm to sway Wizards, as well as Witches. "I'd sincerely like us to start again..." He swallowed, managing to look contrite yet hopeful. "I'd really like us to be friends, Dearborn."

Caradoc instantly rose to his feet. Taking Riddle's hand, the Gryffindor smiled back warmly at the Slytherin. "I would like that. I'm not here to make enemies."

Tom's dark blue eyes glinted. "I'm sure you aren't, Caradoc. May I call you Caradoc? And in return I'd like you to call me Tom."

Dumbledore watched the Gryffindor invite the Slytherin to sit at their table, and the group went back to studying. He watched them, turning the scene over in his mind and thinking that it had been an intriguing exchange. What had gone on between Dearborn and Riddle previously? Dumbledore kept watching and then he saw something even more interesting... the looks Tom and Buffy sneaked at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking.

Were they the shy glances of the enamoured?

Dumbledore watched them for a little longer and decided that they weren't those type of glances. At least, not yet. There was wariness in Tom's glances and suspicion in Buffy's. Dumbledore found himself fervently hoping something would always separate them. There was too much anger, too much ambition, and callous indifference in Riddle's personality. And as for Buffy..? She was burdened with who she was, even if she didn't know it yet.

And he didn't want to see either of them fall into the same depths of insanity that he'd fallen into when he'd met Gellert Grindelwald.