Chapter 2 – The Phantom Student

His son grinned at the story's beginning. "How did you get the name Tom Riddle?"

"Well, my first trick in the lake was just for amusement. It was William Cartwright, a first year, doing some prank-like trick on the people around me. Real Illusionists? They create a persona, a larger-than-life character that's strange and wondrous, that's draped in the curtains of mystery. They're less… they're less people and more like an idea or a symbol. So that's what I needed to do. I created Tom Riddle, an image that I could build on and fill out as time went on."

"But... but Dad, you were enrolled as Will Cartwright, and the teachers knew who you were."

"True."

"… and they knew where you lived? And who your parents were?"

"Yes."

William Jr. looked confused. "So… how did you trick them? When you went to class, they knew who you were, that your name wasn't Tom Riddle."

"You're right… I went the classes, did my homework, ate in the great hall… and I did it all as William Cartwright."

"But…"

"I also did the homework as Tom Riddle."

"Huh?"

William smiled. "I every bit of homework twice. I did it first in my usual, slightly-sloppy handwriting – and I purposely sprinkled in mistakes, misunderstandings, and incorrect answers. I'd turn that in with William Cartwright as the name. And then I'd do it again, trying to make it as perfect as possible, with neat, immaculate handwriting – and sign it as Thomas Marvolo Riddle."

"You did your homework twice?"

"It wasn't as bad as you think. I only had to do the learning once – I just had to write it twice. The tough part was actually figuring out ways of handing in Tom Riddle's work, and my first experience with my arch enemy…"

"… Arch Enemy?"

"Every figure of notoriety needs an arch nemesis."

"Who was yours?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

William loved transfiguration.

He also hated it.

Oh, it had nothing to do with the subject itself. He was pretty decent at it; while he wasn't stellar, he was at least in the top 5 in the first years at the subject – thanks to hard work and a moderate helping of talent.

No, it was Dumbledore. Professor Albus Dumbledore. The bane of his existence.

Every other teacher in the school? They took things as they came, rolling with the flow of events and not questioning or noticing things that happened beyond the ends of their noses. Dumbledore, though? He was uncannily brilliant and persistently observant. The jerk.

William had been working hard. Tom Riddle – a completely fictional character – had now become a sort of Urban Legend. All of the teaching staff was mystified at the fact that an unknown student was handing in some exceptional homework. Every paper submitted was at least passably good, and quite a few were truly outstanding work for a first year.

Some teachers thought he was a prank some student was playing. Professor Meriwether in particular believed it was some silly second year pulling their leg. After all, nobody had ever heard of Tom Riddle before this year, had they? He wasn't on the Hogwarts Ledger or any transfer listing. The only problem was, nobody could fathom a guess why a prankster would go through so much trouble and for such little gain.

Most, though, thought it was a home-schooled student. Slughorn loved expounding that it made a certain amount of sense – all of "Tom Riddle's" homework was being handed in during the same classes as the first-year Slytherins, so maybe it was some bed-ridden relative of one of them? Still, that left the problem of why Tom Riddle wasn't on any school documentation.

Which brought him to the only storm on the horizon: Dumbledore. How were you supposed to hand in a second set of homework under that man's eyes? All the tricks William knew, all the little sleight-of-hands that he pulled off without blinking against other teachers were unacceptably dangerous in front of that old man.

"You all right, Mr. Cartwright?" came Dumbledore's kind voice.

Damn! William shook himself out of his thoughts. He had a lesson to focus on – and more importantly, he had yet another paper (this one about transmuting metals) that needed to stealthily make its way into the homework basket. Making things more annoying, William couldn't even properly observe Dumbledore without giving something away. Dumbledore could never think of William as observant, as smart, or as tricky; if he did, there would be no chance of giving birth to "Tom Riddle".

"I'm all right, sir," William said back meekly.

Dumbledore nodded, then addressed the rest of the class in his blasted kind voice, "When you're finished turning your toy blocks into brick, please hand them in along with your homework."

The jig was up.

Everyone was shuffling in their desks and some were already walking to the front to hand in their work. And William hadn't found an opportunity to cast a temporary sticking charm on Riddle's work to attach it to someone else's paper. Nor had he been able to sneak it into another student's pile of parchment. He briefly thought about doing a very risky thing – leaving it on the floor (like it had fell or been jostled to the ground from out of the basket) but quickly dismissed it. If anyone saw him drop Riddle's work, he'd be instantly noticed.

William swallowed as he followed a clot of Ravenclaws up towards the front. Halfway up, one final possibility presented itself.

He stuck Riddle's work to the back of his own. And prayed.

The seconds where William's hand dropped both sets of homework into the basket in front of Dumbledore's watchful eyes were some of the longest he'd ever experienced.

But it seemed to work! He turned away and took several elated steps towards the door. Until…

"Mr. Cartwright, will you please stay for a few minutes?"

William's heart sank. What should he do? What could he do? If Dumbledore knew, would he even let William keep up his game? Surely he'd tell the other teachers, right? If not them, then at least Headmaster Dippet. Obediently, he stayed behind, sullenly watching everyone else go to their freedom.

"Did you notice anything strange," Dumbledore asked, "when you were handing in your homework today?"

William shook his head side to side.

"Really?" Dumbledore asked. He fished out William's homework; while his sticking charm was only temporary, enough time probably hadn't passed for it to wear off. Sure enough, two sets of papers emerged from the pile. Dumbledore gently peeled them apart and set them down on the table in front of William, side by side.

"Mr. Cartwright," Dumbledore began, "… it seems like you also handed in work by a Tom Riddle. Would you care to explain?"

William's face stayed still, but his heart fell even further. He finally ventured, "Tom Riddle… he's a fake student I heard Professor Slughorn talking about."

Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "Would you like to hear something amusing, Mr. Cartwright?"

No. "Yes, sir."

"I had a theory that you were Tom Riddle."

Shut up old man. Just get this over with. "Me?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Until this moment, our mysterious Mr. Riddle had handed his homework in by attaching it to the back of every student in class. Every student, that is, but you. It seemed a bit of a strange coincidence. But, it seems, my guess was quite premature, doesn't it?"

You have got to be kidding me. I am officially the luckiest kid in this silly school.

William didn't know what to say. He decided to keep it simple. "So I'm not in trouble?"

"No, Mr. Cartwright, you are not. Go on and join your classmates. The mystery of Tom Riddle is not your burden to solve."

William managed to make it through the last two weeks of Spring Term without any incidents… and he finally got the first reward of all his efforts. Headmaster Dippet had a tradition of posting the class results in the Great Hall after the last day of classes and tests. It was mostly for the 1st through 4th years (the 5th years didn't care about class grades and were more worried about OWLs in the summer; the 6th years were mostly trying to forget about those OWLs; and the 7th years were having nervous breakdowns about their NEWTs.)

This year, however, the class standings for the 1st years was drawing quite a bit of commotion. At the top of the list: Tom (Middle Name Unknown) Riddle - Slytherin (?). First in Charms. First in Astronomy. Second in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Second in Potions. Third in Herbology. Fourth in Transfiguration. First in Class Composite Score. All from a student that… nobody had really ever seen or heard from.

All this greatly amused William, hearing younger and older students alike on the train talking about the phantom first year prodigy – as well as the wide spectrum of rumors that had sprung up to explain the kid. It did make William realize something: he had an important decision to make: when would he no longer be William? When would he actually be Tom Riddle?

Now, if William were older and more mature, the answer would've been obvious: later. Much later. Give the legend of Tom Riddle time to grow, cultivate it over several years. However, despite William's precociousness and talent, he was still just an 11 year old - and there was no way he was going to have the patience to do what he did this year all over again. He wanted credit.

No, he was going to be Tom Riddle next year. He was tired of doing homework twice, of having his classmates think he was just that slightly-dull kid who never really accomplished a whole lot.

The problem was, it would look awfully suspicious if Tom Riddle showed up and just happened to look exactly like a slightly older version of William.

But, that was a solvable problem. Not easily, of course. He'd have to improve his musculature, get a whole different set of mannerisms, new quirks of speech, switch his wardrobe, alter his hairstyle – heck, he'd have to alter pretty much every aspect of his public face. After all, the more Tom Riddle had in common with William Cartwright, the easier it would be to figure out what was really going on.

Still, just because a problem wasn't easily solvable didn't mean much to William anymore. Being able to fool Dumbledore wasn't an easy problem either. And if he could, as a first year, manage to get Dumbledore as an arch-nemesis and pull one over on him… well, he could do just about anything he set his mind to.