Chapter 3 – A New Student

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"There's something I don't get."

William smiled. "What's that?"

"So... you were there as William and you handed in Tom's homework. And next year you were going to be Tom. What about William? Wouldn't people wonder where he went?"

"You're right," William replied, nodding. "The teachers knew who William was, who his parents were, where he lived, and so on. He couldn't just disappear. So a few weeks into the summer vacation, I ran away."

"What?!" his son shouted, sitting up from under the covers. "But..."

William put up a hand to interrupt. "Junior, there's something you need to understand. Your mother passed last year, but you remember how she used to hug you when you got home from school? How she baked you the cookies you like, and cheered you up whenever you had a bad day? And you know how I tell you stories before you go to bed each night, and tickle you until you giggle and snort, and play Gobstone wars with you?"

"... yeah?"

"Well, my parents... weren't like that. I didn't really have a family." William swallowed; this wasn't something he'd ever told his son before. Heck, he didn't really tell almost anyone about it. "I was really into magic tricks when I was little, and so I'd always be in my room practicing. My father was hooked on muggle television and worked 12 hour shifts at the smelters - most days, we'd never even say anything to each other. I only have vague memories about my mom, but I think she was just as distant. It wasn't like we were really a family… more like people that just happened to live in the same house."

His son looked devastated. And it made William proud. While William grew up in a pretty emotionally-chilly house, he'd managed to raise a son that couldn't even conceive of not being loved by his family. What higher mark was there as a parent?

"It's okay," William said soothingly to his son. "It was a long time ago, and it wasn't as terrible as it sounds. It's not like they were mean or anything - it was just like... like we were all distant friends."

"... so you ran away?"

William nodded. "Tuck in, and I'll tell you a little bit more of the story."

William thought it would be harder, running away. But he realized something: most kids that ran away were doing it because they thought they had it rough, that they were feeling disabused and were entitled to something - only to find that the real world was a lot harsher than they expected. Food, shelter, clothes, safety; there were a lot of things kids generally didn't think about.

Which was the exact opposite deal with William. He wasn't out for coddling or pity. Plus, being a wizard on the run was quite a bit easier than being a muggle. It's amazing how many of life's core problems are solved with a little bit of creative wand work. Still, William didn't know whether the Ministry of Magic tracked underage magic by where the magic occurred at, or by which wand cast it. Deciding to play it safe, William pilfered the wand of the first wizard he came across. And then he did the one thing he was flabbergasted that wizards didn't do all the time.

He robbed a bank.

Oh, it wasn't like some grand caper movie. That would've been extraordinarily dumb. Flashily and ostentatiously stealing millions of pounds from a vault in some grand magic trick would've not only brought all sorts of muggle investigators, but wizard ones as well. No, he just snuck in with some basic wandwork, took a very small stack of notes (just enough to get through the summer) and walked out. Afterwards, the bank wasn't even sure if it was a simple record-keeping error or minor embezzlement.

By the time the summer ended, William had given birth to Tom. His mannerisms were no longer the quiet and reclusive William's, but that of a confident, almost arrogant pre-teen. His clothes were a painstakingly chosen to be second-hand yet immaculately tended, the sort of aura that a poor family would have wearing their sunday best. His hair was cut very short, so much so that there was scarcely enough to even part it. Between a lucky growth spurt and his intense physical regimen, Tom looked almost nothing like William Cartwright who had been reported missing three months prior.

As he boarded the Hogwarts Express, he began looking for a compartment to sit in. He had very specific requirements. He had to find a room with older students - the first friends that Tom Riddle made should be older than him (it'd be more impressive that way). But they couldn't be old enough that they'd look down at him - he had to be able to impress them. There also had to be at least one Slytherin in the room as well, because that way they'd be able to spread word of Tom Riddle directly (Slytherins tended to not put a whole lot of stock in what, say, the Hufflepuffs talked about.) And, well, they had to be popular. No sense in getting Tom Riddle's name immediately tied to something like the Hogwarts Official Herbology Club or something similarly lame.

As he was halfway down the train, he knew he had found the right room. They were a mix of third and fourth years, at the age where the girls and boys were beginning to be awkward around one another. Two of the girls were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, two of the boys were relatively well-known Ravenclaw purebloods, and the last was Sean Hallis, the top Slytherin student of the third years.

As soon as Tom stepped in, Sean immediately confronted him. "What are you doing? Who invited you in?"

Perfect! Sean doesn't recognize me! William didn't answer and merely took a seat. This seemed to flummox the five older students. "Well, who are you?" chimed in the Gryffindor girls.

William smiled and nodded towards her. "My apologies. My name is Thomas Marvolo Riddle." And seeing as how he was playing at an aristocrat, he even took her hand and gave the surprised girl a kiss upon her knuckles.

"Whoa, Derek, you better watch it - this guy's going to steal your girl away."

"She's not my girl!" Derek replied with a red face.

After a brief mock-fight between the two Ravenclaw boys, Tom genteelly greeted the remaining students. He found out that the two Gryffindors – chasers, it turned out – were Penny and Eurice. The Ravenclaw purebloods were Derek and Mark. Apparently Derek and Eurice were at that awkward and discomfiting point of not-quite-old-enough-but-sort-of boyfriend and girlfriend (but-not-quite.) Sean, of course, Tom Riddle already knew (he was in the same house and only a year older.)

"Okay, it's game time," Penny said, grinning.

"Quidditch?" Sean asked, raising an eyebrow. "Really? On the train? Are you insane?"

"Not quidditch, stupid!" Penny replied, rolling her eyes. "Magic."

"Magic game?" Mark asked, raising an eyebrow. "Like Exploding Snap? Not a fan."

Penny smiled. "No, something better than that. A bet, if you will. We're all about the same year. We all show off our coolest spellwork – and whoever can do the best trick wins."

Derek sat up. "Wins what?"

Betting and Illusion went hand in hand. There was a reason for the concept of a "Bar Trick". However, William knew there was an art to the wager. You had to bet something small, because otherwise the other person might not fulfill their end of the bargain. Wager a month's rent and the only thing you'd be sure of is not getting a pound of it. Bet someone for a small wager and they wouldn't even hesitate to pay up. So before anyone else could propose the terms of the bet, William chimed in with, "Three chocolate frogs from each of the losers."

"Sounds good," Eurice said, grinning savagely. "Everyone agree?"

Everyone did. And William went to work.

Not on his trick, of course. No, on fulfilling the adage: Save the Best For Last. He was the best (of course) so he had to make sure everyone else went before him. It actually wasn't too difficult. Just a few nonverbal cues and the right words in the right spots, and each of the older students were volunteering to go next.

However, there was a small problem: all of the spells they did were much better than what Tom Riddle could do. Granted, he had the highest scores of any of the first years... but everyone else in the room had been at Hogwarts for at least twice as long as he had and weren't exactly slouches themselves.

"So, Mr. Riddle, what are you going to do?" Mark asked. "Some little first-year trick? It's not like you have a whole lot of lessons or magic under your belt."

"Mark!" Sean chided. "Go on, Tom. Let's see what you've got."

William sat up straight and prim. Showtime. "I'm going to perform the Mobilis spell."

"Hah!" Mark crowed.

"... wandlessly."

This seemed to perk everyone's interest. Wandless spells were notoriously tough.

"... and without an incantation."

Mark laughed. "Oh, come on. I call bullshit."

Sean looked at the younger student appraisingly. He'd heard a few rumors of 'Tom Riddle' - mostly that he was exceptionally bright and nobody knew who he was - a sort of phantom prodigy. Granted, the idea of a first year student performing wandless, incantationless charms was ridiculous… but was it ridiculous enough that the mysterious Tom Riddle couldn't possibly do it?

William smiled. "Mark, I need to borrow your quill."

"Why?"

"Because if I use my own, you'll try to weasel out of giving me my chocolate frogs."

Mark rolled his eyes, but dug into his supplies. Despite appearances, William didn't ask Mark because of the bantering antagonism between them. He asked because Mark was part of an affluent pureblood family… and hopefully his quill would be elaborate enough for what William had in mind. Sure enough, it was a fine specimen made from the feather of either a hawk or an eagle, with the lower spine protected by a thin plating of a bluish metal.

Which brought up what his father called "The First Rule Of Illusions." The mechanics, the actual How-Do-I-Do-This of an illusion wasn't the important part. What really, truly mattered was the charisma and showmanship behind it. William was about to perform the first Magic Trick he'd ever learned – one that was incredibly simple to actually do, but relied heavily on the magician to frame things just right.

William slowly, delicately placed his hands upon the table. The sides of his hands hovered a hair's-width above the surface with the palms facing inward, one hand on either side of the quill about four inches away.

His eyes fluttered half-shut, putting on an aura of concentration and will-gathering. His mouth slowly opened, his hands trembling slightly from a non-existant effort, his spine and face tensing slightly...

The quill began to wave a bit before moving along the table away from him.

"Holy shit!"

"No… no way."

"Looks like you owe the man some chocolate frogs, Mark."

All showmanship. Do it well enough, and nobody notices that you're simply blowing on the blasted feather.

Or almost nobody. Sean smiled slightly and said, "Do it again."

Oh, that tone of voice. The slightly-smug tone of someone who was sure they figured out the trick, someone who was only a few seconds away from raining on a magician's parade. The thing was, William was a big fan of Rule Number 5…

Tom Riddle blinked in supposed confusion, taking his hands away and putting them upon his lap. "What?" he asked.

Sean grinned deeper. "I said," he said slowly, "Do it again. But, oh... lean back this time."

Tom blinked again. "Uh, sure."

Everyone watched as the new second year proceeded to concentrate upon the quill once more.

A quill that once again began to move by some quiet, wordless, wandless spell.

Rule of Illusion 5: Always Have A Backup Plan

"Huh," Sean said, both bemused and confused.

"So do I win?" William asked, all the while thinking Ah, I love magnets...