This chapter contains a little bit of content from HBP – namely, the conversation between Mrs. Cole and Dumbledore contains a few direct quotes.
July 24, 1938
The magic flickered in his hands, slipping through his fingers in quick flashes as if it had a mind of its own. Harry bit his lip and willed it to slow down, watching as it twined around his fingers and spiraled in the air. In the background, he could hear the soothing hum of Tom's voice as he read aloud some science book he'd nicked.
The reading paused for a moment. "Dove, I don't understand how you never get bored."
"It's pretty." It was the same answer to a familiar question. He smirked and sent a little tendril of magic over to Tom, who lounged on their bed. Harry bit his lip and concentrated as the tendril wavered with the distance as it drew closer to Tom's face.
"Hey!" Tom scooted to the side. "I can smell you trying to do something."
"I know," Harry said, giving one last mental push and giggling when the tendril of magic brushed below Tom's nose. Tom twitched and sneezed, hands pressed against his face. He looked up at Harry, murder in his eyes.
"I'll get you for that."
"Of course you will, Kit." Even if Tom did figure out how to tickle someone with his magic, it wouldn't be as effective on Harry as it was on Tom, with his magic smelling and all. Harry permitted himself a wicked grin as Tom made a face. Despite having the nickname 'Kit' for months following a conversation in which Harry had discovered the possibility of 'Tomcat' as a nickname, Tom still wasn't used to it. Whenever Harry used it, Tom bristled much like the cats he was named after.
"Were you even listening to me?" Tom sniffed. "If you're not listening, there's no point in wearing my voice out."
"It's obvious that you like reading aloud," Harry said. "I bet that even when I'm not around you read out loud like that."
"I don't," Tom said, turning away and looking down at his book. Harry laughed, earning him a glare, and continued messing with the fine golden threads in his hands. The sun radiated a steady heat into Harry's skin. An occasional breeze slipped by and gave a temporary reprieve from the heat.
This summer was turning out to be very hot, Harry mused. If not for cooling magic – something that they'd decided was essential to master – they would likely have been burnt to a crisp.
A little while later, Harry got up and stretched, feeling the bones in his back creak. "Hey, Kit. I'm going to find Alyssa."
"Alright, done," Alyssa said after a minute of domino flipping. "Choose yours."
Harry pulled out six dominoes at random, moving them into the cross of his legs and feeling with a fingertip for the identifying marks. He was about to move when a polite knocking sounded on the door of the lobby.
Alyssa got up with a sigh as the sound in the room blinked out like a snuffed candle. "Someone, get Mrs. Cole or Martha."
He let his hand fall to the ground as he looked up and noticed Tom's face, of all people's, peeking out from the wall on the third floor. Tom's magic was agitated and swirling in scythes of anxiety, magic leaking through the wall. Harry's eyes locked on the blue of the magic showing in Tom's eyes before flitting toward the door.
Restless with sudden anticipation, Harry got up too, looking in the direction of the door. He froze as something ivory and pale green danced through the wood. It was as if his brain had stopped, exploding with sounds and images from his memories. Discussions he'd had with Tom – "We should get a letter? Or maybe someone will come, seeing as we live here after all." "Are you sure?" "Of course." – threw themselves in the forefront of his mind. Was this it?
Harry's feet started carrying him to the staircase without his consent, racing up the stairs toward Tom. Harry's eyes kept looking back at the door, the door which was slowly opening… the door which stopped holding back the brilliance of the magic there. It was like a small sun, a blazing human shape with flares of yellow-green. It was bright and white and it made Harry's eyes water. Before Harry was fully aware of it, he lurched and his feet moved and he was on the third floor staring into Tom's wide eyes.
"Get behind the wall," Tom said, pulling Harry behind him. "I'll tell you what's going on."
"What does he smell like?" Harry asked, hands shaking with something that could have been nervousness or excitement. "He looks like the sun."
"Something strange and minty," Tom said absently, head still peeking out and observing the proceedings. "A bit like those lemon candies you hate."
"What's happening?" Harry asked. He could hear the murmur of voices – a new voice he wasn't familiar with that sounded like condensed good humor and geniality.
"Mrs. Cole just walked up to him," Tom said. "His hair is auburn but he looks like he could be in his forties. I also can't figure out what he's wearing. It's some suit but it's horrid. It looks like someone spilled bright purple paint on it. He's talking to her…they're going upstairs." Tom's voice pitched high for a second. Tom's hand grabbed his and Harry let himself be dragged through the doorway of the nearest room.
Tom kept peeking around the corner and down. Harry could hear the sound of voices, but to his dismay, they were indistinct through the wood of the door. "Can you hear what they're saying?" Harry asked in a low hiss, guaranteed to escape the hearing of anyone but Tom.
"Some. They're saying something about an appointment. Do you think…"
"It has to be."
"They're going into Mrs. Cole's office. Martha's at the door – wait no, she just left – and the door's shut. Come on, let's listen at the door."
Harry crept down the hallways and the stairs after Tom and they settled at the door, ears pressed against the door. Behind them, a few inquisitive faces peered out from the staircase, also curious about the strange man without a hint of fashion sense.
"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future," the stranger said in a calm and pleasant voice that spoke of endless patience.
"Are you family?" Mrs. Cole asked, sounding nervous. The stranger must have been quite a character.
"No, I am a teacher," the stranger said. "I have come to offer Tom a place at my school."
Harry exchanged a look with Tom, reading the excitement in Tom's eyes just as Tom did the same. "Merlin…" Harry whispered.
"What school's this, then?"
"It is called Hogwarts."
Harry grinned at the confirmation and next to him, Tom gave a quiet, relieved sigh before turning to Harry with a look of consternation. "Hogwarts? Seriously? I thought you were joking or didn't remember it correctly from all those years ago."
Harry shrugged. "You get used to it."
Mrs. Cole continued asking questions about the teacher and the validity of Tom's acceptance into the school. The teacher responded with ambiguous answers to her questions, never giving Mrs. Cole a complete answer about Tom's qualifications. However, next Mrs. Cole brought up the subject of Tom's parents.
"Who registered him? His parents?"
Tom's hand found Harry's and squeezed it in a vice grip.
"Here," the stranger said. Harry heard some rustling of fabric. Next to Harry, Tom inhaled sharply as the stranger said, "I think this will make everything clear."
"I smelled mint," Tom whispered right into Harry's ear. Harry nodded and turned his head a tiny amount to see if magical activity on the teacher's part would allow some of the stranger's magic enough free reign to travel through the door. Despite Harry's hopes, whatever magic Tom detected remained invisible to Harry's eyes, the door a frustrating barrier.
"That seems perfectly in order," Mrs. Cole said, slurring her words the slightest bit. Harry and Tom exchanged looks – she couldn't be drunk. Not now, at least. "Er – may I offer you a glass of gin?"
"Thank you very much," the teacher said. There was the sound of pouring liquid and the clink of glass. Mrs. Cole's smacked together in a familiar way as the teacher continued asking questions.
To both Harry and Tom's surprise, instead of further investigation on Mrs. Cole's part, the teacher started asking about Tom's origins. Tom's hand squeezed tighter. Harry's thoughts danced for a second; what did the teacher wish to know?
"Tom…I think he's trying to find out if your parents are magical or not."
Tom pursed his lip before responding. "I think it's safe to say he won't be very successful on that part."
The subject of Tom's parentage was a bit of a sore point. Tom remained adamant that if he had at least one magical parent, it would be his father. His mother – dying from something as mundane as childbirth – wasn't a possible candidate.
To Harry's dismay and anger, Mrs. Cole began her dramatic retelling of the night Tom arrived. Spreading information like that to someone who was, at the moment, nothing more than a stranger!
Tom grit his teeth, face contorting into something that Harry could recognize as rage. His magic lay still for a long, endless moment before it started roiling. The information was familiar, but Harry knew that it hurt Tom every time he heard it nevertheless. Harry himself had his memories. He knew his mother's red hair and warm smile, his father's brown eyes and hugs. All Tom had was a mere story, just one of the numerous stories that littered the air of the orphanage. Harry leaned in and placed his hand on Tom's shoulder, tugging at his magic in warning.
The stranger probed for more information, asking about last words and whether Mrs. Cole knew anything about Tom's father. While Harry could understand why the teacher might want to know this information, it didn't mean that he wasn't being very rude about digging around in Tom's past. Harry had the urge to stab him with knives for prolonging the reminder. Of course, they were eavesdropping, but that wasn't the point. The stranger continued, "Anything about the boy's father, for instance?"
"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs. Cole, excited for a chance to say her story. Most of the other orphans didn't appreciate her grim retellings. "I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty-"
Tom's fingernails dug into the skin of Harry's hand.
"-And then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father – yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus – and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word."
"You're Kit, now," Harry whispered, and Tom gave him a weak smile. "We're Dove and Kit."
Mrs. Cole wrapped up her long story, concluding with the clink of a glass and the sound of gin splashing against the empty cup. After a few seconds of silence, her voice, before light and drunk, darkened a bit. "He's a strange one."
Harry's eyes widened and met Tom's.
"She won't tell him everything, right?" Tom asked.
"We'll see."
"Yes," the stranger said, "I thought he might be."
Mrs. Cole began spouting off small details, chronologically listing all the strange things she'd noticed about Tom before trailing off. Harry held his breath as the teacher prodded Mrs. Cole for more details.
There was an intake of breath before Mrs. Cole began firing rapid questions. Was Tom accepted, no matter what? The teacher, bemused, assured her that Tom would always have a place at Hogwarts. Tom's magic, having settled down some, picked up its furious dance. "She wouldn't."
"They can't refuse us," Harry said with confidence. "As he said, we have to be taught. No matter what she says, she doesn't know even half of everything."
"He scares the other children," Mrs. Cole said. "He and that Harry boy."
"You mean he – they are bullies?"
There was a long silence before Mrs. Cole said, quiet words lingering in the air, "There have been incidents."
A surge of magic from a corner of Harry's eye made him turn his head. He saw, hopeful, as Tom's magic swirled once around him in a maelstrom of gold with a touch of green and threw itself through the wood of the door as if it wasn't there. Harry watched, eyes attuned to Tom's magic most of all, as it moved forward.
From inside the room, there was the scrape of a chair against the floor. Silence reigned. The stranger asked after a few minutes, "Incidents?"
"I'd supposed you'd like to see him," Mrs. Cole said, and Harry cheered as she moved away from dangerous territory.
"Of course," the stranger said but Harry could detect a lingering interest in his voice. Despite Tom's obvious misgivings, Harry couldn't feel too worried. While it had the possibility of complicating things if the strange teacher found out about their past, surely he would understand. He was a wizard himself, after all. And, most of their actions had been in defence. And if their acquisition of sweets wasn't completely necessary, Harry could concede fault.
There was another screech of a chair and rustling cloth. Tom stood up, pulling Harry's hand, nails digging into his skin. "Come on!"
Tom stumbled, but then they raced to the stairs and flew up them, fleet-footed in their shared fear and excitement. They heard the door to Mrs. Cole's office open, but by that time they were already on the third floor, turning into their room.
"Act casual!" Tom hissed, throwing himself onto the bed. His magic was moving more like it used to, but Harry could tell that he was still rattled.
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, torn. "You took the bed; what am I supposed to do?"
"Here, grab the book." Tom sent a book flying at Harry with magic and Harry grabbed at it, fingertips managing to snag a few pages, staring incredulously at Tom. "Tom, I can't see. Are you stupid?"
"It doesn't matter; he's coming!" Harry threw himself to the floor under the window, opening the book to a random page and hoping that he wasn't holding it upside down. He hissed in annoyance as Tom chuckled under his breath.
There were two knocks on the door.
Albus contemplated the things he saw in Mrs. Cole's eyes. When she spoke of Tom, there was true fear and anxiety hidden in her gaze as well as an unhealthy dose of caution. It was as if young Tom had done something she feared and thought terrible.
It was truly strange how one child could have terrified an adult to that extent. Maybe even more than that, Albus pondered because the glimpses of inside her mind when the conversation moved to Tom had featured Tom and the other boy – Harry – always apart from the group and subject to a wide range of looks ranging from nervousness to rage or fear.
From what he had seen, Tom Riddle was an intelligent child and had likely figured out that he wasn't like his muggle peers from an early age. It seemed as if he had some control over his magic – enough to encourage wariness in everyone else. He also seemed to be close to a boy named Harry; in fact, in every memory Mrs. Cole had of Tom, Harry wasn't far away.
Did Harry know about magic? Being close to Tom as he was, it was likely that he had some awareness of it. Seeing as Harry seemed to be someone Tom was truly close to, he could almost be construed as family. That way, Tom would be able to keep that boy as a part of his life during the summer holidays. Secrets drove people apart, after all.
But what worried Albus the most – what his mind kept circling back to – was the way Mrs. Cole faltered as he asked about the incidents. Her eyes had darted around in fear and she seemed reluctant to speak. The lack of eye contact was frustrating; Albus hadn't managed to even grab a glimpse. Then, a brief wind swept into the room and Mrs. Cole's chair moved and, from the fear in her eyes, Albus was certain that the movement was not made by her. Was it Tom? Was he perhaps listening outside the door? Albus hadn't thought to ward the room against eavesdroppers. How much had he heard?
Albus strolled down the hallway, his suit feeling constricting. He much preferred his loose robes with something light thrown on underneath, not the many-piece monstrosities that he had seen Muggles wearing on the streets. Not to mention the lack of originality; everything was patterned brown, black, or grey! The only ones to reliably have some color in their wardrobe were the children. Perhaps Tom would appreciate a respectable plum.
Mrs. Cole stopped at the last door on the left and rapped twice before entering. "Tom, you've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton – sorry, Dumberbore. He's come to tell you – well, I'll let him do it." Mrs. Cole turned, about to leave, before turning back. "Harry, give the two some privacy."
Albus smiled as he ambled in after her, letting his eyes dance around the room, taking in its occupants. A young boy with dark hair and grey eyes was lounging upon the single bed in the room with a book in his hands. Next to him, sitting on the ground underneath the window was another lad with dark hair and calm green eyes, with a book in his lap. There was a dresser and a wardrobe on one side of the room. The boy on the bed flipped a page of his book before looking up.
Albus bit back a smile. The boy on the bed was trying hard to be casual, but his posture betrayed his stiffness. Upon closer examination, the lad on the floor had his book upside down. "It's alright," Albus reassured Mrs. Cole. "I'm sure he won't be any trouble." Albus needed to examine whether the lad had any knowledge of magic first.
Mrs. Cole's eyes glittered but she nodded and left, closing the door behind her.
"Hello. Tom Riddle, I presume?"
The youngster on the bed raised an eyebrow but replied, "Yes."
Albus turned toward the young man on the floor. "And who might you be?"
The boy on the floor, eyes still panicked, quietly said, "Harry Potter."
Albus's stomach seemed to drop. Next, a wave of horror and shock rushed through his very bones as a sense of relief danced through his veins. Harry Potter. The boy he'd searched for so many years back before admitting a victory to Gellert. It turned out Gellert didn't have Harry after all; he was in a Muggle orphanage all along! The years of memories that Albus saw in Mrs. Cole's eyes underscored the fact that Harry had been at the orphanage for a long time.
But how had he gotten there? No doubt Gellert was searching for him too – he had gone after his parents personally. It stood to reason that Gellert was interested in Harry as well. But Harry had been hidden in a small, run-down Muggle orphanage right in the middle of London all these years, evading all forms of magical detection that Dumbledore could employ.
Albus wanted to take Harry right then and there and get him to safety. Under some strong wards, of course, with some Light, loving family. Out of reach of Gellert's quick, thieving hands. But as soon as this thought ticked through Albus's brain, he rejected it. Whatever the reason, Harry had been virtually undetectable all these years. Would it be safer to keep him where he was?
It was evident there was another player at hand, guiding with invisible hands. Dumbledore wondered who it could be – not many people were capable of performing such complex magic that they hid one child so thoroughly. What he wouldn't give to get into contact with this unnamed entity.
Albus smiled and held out a hand. "How do you two do?"
Tom got up from the bed and shook Albus's hand. His sharp grey eyes danced over Dumbledore's face, searching. Dumbledore restrained the urge to employ Legilimency. Not yet. Searching Harry's mind was a matter of utmost importance. Perhaps he had some inkling of his protector? What did he remember from that night, so many years ago? Was he safe?
Harry got up and walked over as well, shaking Albus's hand with a light grip. His eyes darted around everywhere, not even coming close to Albus's eyes. Albus had forgotten; the boy was blind. Would Legilimency even work on him?
"So, who exactly are you?" Tom asked, looking at Albus with curious eyes. Albus frowned. There was the strangest accent in Tom's voice; each word was careful and enunciated in such a way that his voice sounded unusually musical.
"I am Professor Dumbledore," Albus said. "I work at a school called Hogwarts. I've come to offer you a place there, as well as Harry here." Despite the lack of a letter, there was no way that Harry would not attend Hogwarts. Even if his finding had been delayed, he was here now. And despite the success of his protection, Hogwarts was still the safest place he could be. Gellert would not even dream of touching him there.
Tom's eyes widened a little bit, brimming with surprise. A magnificent actor, he was, but Albus had been a teacher for years and had an unusual affinity for detecting lies. He fought down a chuckle. It appeared as if his conversation with Mrs. Cole didn't lack curious ears.
"It is a school of magic," Albus continued and once again, Tom's face showed immense surprise and disbelief. When he glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eyes, his face was calm as his eyes gazed vaguely in Albus's direction.
"I take it you are not surprised?"
"No, we're not," Harry's soft voice answered, also lyrical. "Can we see the letter?"
Albus's eyes flicked over to Tom and he saw a small tightening of his lips. Ah, Harry had let the cat out of the bag. His eyes fixed onto Harry's face. He had been five when he disappeared…so he wasn't facing two new green wizards. They had an understanding of magic. Albus looked down and pulled out a letter from his pocket, tapping it with his wand to remove a small crease before he handed it to Tom. Tom took it, sitting down with eyes flying over the paper as he began to murmur the words under his breath. Harry sat down next to him, head tilted to the side.
"I don't have one for Mr. Potter but the information is the same. I'm sorry," he said, looking at Harry, "but I didn't expect to find you here."
Harry hummed in response as Tom finished reading the letter out loud. "Where do we go to get these? And money?" Tom voiced.
"Diagon Alley," Albus said. "There's a fund to provide for orphans. I'm afraid I did not expect two orphans here so this won't be enough," he said, pulling out a leather money pouch, "but it should do for now. You might have to get most of your materials secondhand."
Tom took it from his hands, feeling the weight before handing it off to Harry. Albus debated about what to do with Harry Potter now. He had a sizeable trust vault, that was true, but if Harry Potter entered Gringotts…would Gellert find out? He had eyes everywhere. Eyes at Hogwarts too, no doubt. Harry Potter could not come to Hogwarts or any magical school. But he had to have a magical education.
Would the shielding of the mysterious force behind Harry's disappearance hold under Hogwart's wards? Albus could not rely on that, no. Albus peered at the boys closely. They both had dark hair, although Harry's was messy while Tom's was neat, despite being wavy. Their eyes were green and grey. They looked similar and spoke with the same singing cadence…perhaps it could work.
"Harry," Albus said. Green eyes looked straight at him as if Harry could see him. How curious.
"Yes?"
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Albus said, "but there is a terrible man looking for you. A terrible man named Gellert Grindelwald. Your last name is too recognizable."
Harry's eyes widened in recognition and his hand curled into the thin blanket of the bed. Albus sighed, not sure if he should feel relief or not that Harry was aware of his danger.
"I would recommend that you go by an alias. You and Tom look similar," Albus said, looking out the window of the orphanage. There was an empty, warehouse building outside and if Albus stood a little straighter, he could see the top of some playing structure.
"Harry Riddle?" Tom proposed, raising an eyebrow.
Albus nodded. "I can change the name in the documents."
"Pardon my asking," Harry cut in, "but why are you helping?"
"My boy," Albus said, "I'd do anything to stop the forces of evil." He laughed in the depths of his own mind at the truth of those words. Leaving a boy in a ramshackle orphanage was the least of his crimes for his beliefs.
"How do we get to Diagon Alley?" asked Harry after a long pause.
"I can escort you-"
"We'd prefer to go ourselves," Tom interjected.
Albus nodded. "As you please. The entrance to Diagon Alley is located in The Leaky Cauldron pub, located on Charing Cross road. Ask Tom, the bartender, for help."
Albus stood up, turning toward the door. "Your train tickets are also inside the letter. When you arrive at the station on September first, there will be a pillar – a barrier – between platforms nine and ten. It is an illusion. Walk through it to reach platform nine-and-three-quarters."
"Thank you," Harry said and Albus nodded as he walked out the door, wondering what the coming year would have in store for him, now with two strange children, one of them a probably subject of interest for Grindelwald, at Hogwarts.
A huge amount of thank-yous goes to lowonbattery for pulling my wild ideas back within the reach of earth's gravitational pull. Thank-yous go to Scarfy for making sure my ego doesn't completely deflate w all the holes punched into it.
Dumbledore's magic smells quite similar to a mojito just because I can make it that way ;D
