Hagrid sat, happily discussing the wonders of the Nymphs of the Dark Forest with the handsome Tom Riddle, Hogwarts star pupil and newly-appointed Head Boy. Tom was the only one who listened to Hagrid. He was the only one who seemed interested in the creatures the half-giant loved so much.
Tom sat back, casually, listening to the eager boy, five years his junior explaining the healing properties of a nymph's song. He wasn't much interested in what the boy had to say, but Hagrid had a potentially-genius level master of Care of Magical Creatures. While Tom wasn't quite so prodigy-hungry as Slughorn, he did recognize the importance of fostering bonds with those who may later prove useful to him. He put in his cursory time with a number of people to maintain those relationships. He didn't need to enjoy them. He just needed to keep them strong.
Besides, with Septimus still at his family home across the country and Antonin stuck at a wedding, his choices were limited for this afternoon. Apparently Hagrid was being put up at the Leaky Cauldron by Hogwarts as well and Tom truly didn't mind the boy all that much. He was only thirteen but thirteen now would be twenty in seven years when Tom was getting ready to truly start expanding his followers… out into the magical creatures arena… werewolves, giants and the like. Hagrid would help him with that. Tom was certain. Tom would let the boy go on and on every few months over a meal and that bought him the lonely boy's absolute loyalty. He was harmless and he would do anything for Tom, something Tom knew would come in handy someday.
Tom's thoughts darkened as he thought of those worthless imbeciles back at Hogwarts, those who didn't understand who he was, what he was and all that he would do. He imagined the many ways he would get them back if… no when, he stopped himself; 'Yes when I become the most powerful wizard in the world I'll give those fools what is coming to them,' he thought. "When indeed," he mumbled to himself, sipping his butterbeer as he listened to Hagrid.
"There is a green nymph in the forest, you see? Oi she's a beauty that one. I heard her voice and followed it. She was a-singing to a werewolf, she was… calmin' him down is what she did," Hagrid said.
"Thirteen years old and already tracking werewolves in the forest are we Hagrid," Tom laughed at his friend, who blushed, shaking his shaggy hair out of his face. A few girls looked at Tom as he laughed, swooning and watching him longingly. Tom was used to this however, and just kept his attention on the boy, though he did glance the direction of one of them, a pureblood girl from Gryffindor, no reason not to be gracious of the attention.
"Did you find out who the werewolf was?" Tom asked. "I'll bet it's that putrid-smelling apothecary manager," he added, idly.
"Prolly is, Tom. Ya never know though. For all I knows you could be that werewolf," Hagrid smirked.
"Hardly Hagrid. Honestly, you know me better than that," Tom said. Hagrid beamed at his statement. This was one of the times that Tom was reminded how very Gryffindor Hagrid truly was, so easily manipulated.
One of the reasons Hagrid had so few friends was his oafish, clumsy nature. Tom had no problem dealing with this because his naturally graceful nature easily evened out the few times they had spent time together. Hagrid would trip over his own feet, while Tom would use some quick footwork to sidestep the monstrous boy. He'd then laugh good-naturedly at the half-giant while helping him up.
"Well, as far as I heard, the Headmaster's gonna let me take Care of Magical Creatures a year early, and drop potions. Everyone thinks it's for the best, since last year's accident," Hagrid said. He was of course referring to the incident where he blew up the entire potions classroom. No one was killed but many were badly injured… the potions professor: Professor Slughorn included.
"I think I'll feel safer without you in a potions classroom," Tom said, jokingly.
"You know T…" Hagrid didn't get to finish his sentence as exclamations sounded from the door, two men calling for a mediwitch as if they'd find one hanging around the Leaky Cauldron in the middle of the day. The door was pushed open fully, slamming against the wall. The shouts and chaos drew both their attention. Hagrid jumped to his feet, tipping over the table, but Tom caught and righted it before walking briskly to the door, pushing past people.
"All of you, move now!" he shouted in a commanding voice upon seeing the broken form of a young girl in ripped and torn clothes, fresh blood leaking from various wounds from her pale skin to the ground. Everyone leapt away at his order. He loved it when people listened to him, which was just about always, but he didn't dwell on the fact. There were more important things to be done currently
Tom turned her over to see her green, unfocused eyes. Her flaming red hair was a stark contrast against her sickly-pale skin. He knelt beside her, and slid a hand under her knees and another behind her back, lifting her effortlessly from the ground. "Clear that table," he snapped. The innkeeper quickly waved his wand, clearing the table, watching him in awe.
"Is she a witch?" the innkeeper frowned.
"Of course she is you dolt. Why else would she have been clawing at the door instead of getting herself to a hospital?" Tom snapped, on his last thread of patience with this crowd. He muttered a quick, dark chant and her right hand flashed brilliant blue for a millisecond, long enough for him to confirm that she was a witch, a very pure-blooded witch to boot, from an ancient wizarding family most likely.
He set her gently on the table pulling out his wand, while keeping her head carefully cushioned by his hand. He brushed her hair from her eyes and looked into them, trying to force her to focus. "Who did this to you," he whispered, gently, as everyone in the room held their breaths.
"They-they did," the pale girl said, deliriously.
Tom wasn't stupid, so his next question wasn't who "they" were. She was obviously too disoriented to state that. Being practical, he asked, "Were they muggles? Was it a spell or a knife?"
"Knife," she got out, painfully. Tom clenched his hand around his wand in anger as he already knew the next word that was going to pass her lips, "Muggles."
He let out an angry growl as she slipped unconscious. He gently set her head against the table, removing his cloak, and sliding it underneath to support her head.
"Abscondoctos Velumus!" he stated, with a complicated wave of his wand. A magical blue curtain was constructed around the table, hovering about an inch off the ground. "Hagrid, get in here!" he ordered. Hagrid opened the curtain and stepped through at Tom's order.
"Get a Subsisto Cruor potion from the apothecary. Tell him it's for Tom Riddle," Tom ordered. "Show him this and he'll believe you," Tom said, pulling a silver chain with a Slytherin snake from around his neck and handing it to Hagrid, who ran off.
He used a cutting charm to cut a wide opening in her nightgown, enough to reveal the full extent of the knife wounds: a shallow slash along with a deep stab in the center. He winced. It wasn't a pretty wound and the one across her cheek wasn't too nice either. The two at to crook of her neck looked as if they had been two quick chops at the shoulder, not deep, but probably painful.
He cast a spell to see if that was all that was wrong with her. There was bruising on her face that he healed with a flick of his wand. He ripped off a long strip of his robes and pressed it against her stomach wound which was pouring blood very heavily.
"Fucking muggles," he muttered, angrily.
She opened her eyes, and blinked several times, "Tom?" she asked blearily.
Tom froze then realized he'd only said his own name minutes before. She'd still not been unconscious as far as he could tell except perhaps briefly over by the door before he'd gotten to her. He shook off his usual suspicion, scolding himself for being bothered at all after what he'd just said to Hagrid.
"Help… me," she whispered, distantly, before falling unconscious.
Tom concentrated on stopping the bleeding. Hagrid took that time to push past the curtains, holding the bottle of potion triumphantly.
"Dumbledore's coming," Hagrid said.
"Of course he is," Tom muttered. Wherever Tom was concerned, Dumbledore was sure to be watching nearby, making sure he didn't make a mistake that the old man could exploit. He scowled deeply and snatched the potion from Hagrid. He removed the cloth, dropping it aside.
"Evanescoe," he waved his wand at the wound. The blood disappeared from sight. He quickly uncapped the potion, careful to keep his wand tightly in his hand.
He poured the potion along the wound, most of it concentrated at the center, where the deep stab-wound was. It completely stopped the bleeding, leaving only the thin, but fairly deep cut. He repeated the sequence on the cut on the side of her face and the two on her shoulder.
"Mr. Riddle, I don't believe you are a registered healer," Dumbledore said, from out of no where.
"I'm not," Tom replied coldly, glancing at the man who had suddenly appeared inside the make-shift hospital.
"Then step aside lad. I will take care of this," Dumbledore said. Tom glared at him, but stepped slightly away from the girl's side.
"It was good work I'll grant you, however. You may want to, when deciding a career, choose a profession in mediwizardry," Dumbledore complimented, pleasantly.
Tom didn't reply, watching Dumbledore closely as the man healed the girl's wounds, leaving only thin scars. He couldn't fight back the rampant thoughts that he might have been able to leave her skin as flawless as it had been before whoever had attacked her had ravaged her so much.
"Ah, much better," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling happily as he looked on the girl's face, he placed his wand to the center of her forehead, stating, "Enervate." She jerked awake with a gasp, sitting up quickly, and slipping off the side of the table, but Tom quickly caught and steadied her on her feet. She looked at him in shock. He returned her deer-in-the-headlights look with a very darkly curious one of his own.
Tom noticed she was shivering. He picked up the cloak he had been using to support her head and dropped it over her shoulders. It was much too large and she looked even smaller beneath it.
"Hello, dear, a good day to be alive, is it not?" Dumbledore said in a sickeningly cheerful voice. To Tom's surprise she threw her arms around the old wizard, holding tightly onto him, letting out a soft, childlike cry.
"Well, it's nice to meet you too!" Dumbledore laughed. Tom rolled his eyes. "I believe you have quite a story to tell!"
Tom dropped the curtains and turned to leave. "Wait!" the little voice cried, distraught. Tom turned and found the girl hugging him tightly. "Thank you!" she whispered. Tom hesitantly hugged the girl back and saw a flash of light.
'Reporters already,' he thought, rolling his eyes. Tom sighed releasing her and stepping back, awkwardly. "Professor Dumbledore," he muttered, nodding respectfully. "I will speak with you later, Hagrid."
He glanced once more at the girl who was hiding behind Hagrid now, trying to hide from the cameras. Hagrid was a good two feet taller than her so he easily hid her from the reporters, his chubby face bright red at the fact there was a pretty girl hanging on his arm.
Tom inwardly chuckled at that thought. The twelve-year-old half-giant, for Tom had no doubt that was what he was, had as little chance with a girl that beautiful as Dumbledore did. Tom disappeared into the crowd, ignoring the pats on his back from congratulatory wizards and witches. Only as he slipped into Diagon Alley, did he realize that he hadn't gotten her name. "Damn," he muttered.