Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
Thanks to all reviewers! Your comments and opinions always motivate me and keep me going! ^^
Now, there's only one matter I need to clarify; the spell Dumbledore used on Kathy and then Alice, what it did and the consequences of it, for both women.
With the spell, Dumbledore implanted in their minds a fact, what we saw he said out loud with Kathy: "The Riddles registered their twin sons at my school before the accident which took their lives."
He said the Riddles, since it was the one surname he knew had to be correct because it appeared as Tom's surname in Hogwarts' ledger. And before meeting the boys, he had no reason to think that the Riddle name was important. He then believed that Harry was a halfblood of unknown parents, and that Tom could be nothing more than a muggleborn, given his muggle Riddle surname.
But you can see that he employed the Riddles, as if referring to Riddle Sr. and his wife. It's because he doesn't know about Merope Gaunt, and even less suspects that Kathy could know about her (and Kathy doesn't know her name, anyway). But this is obviously Dumbledore's mistake.
In this fic, because he was so curious about Harry's lack of surname in Hogwarts' ledger, he visited the orphanage some time before than he did in canon. And because of that, after meeting the Minister, he already had many things to prepare for the Order meeting.
Thus, he didn't have much time and didn't linger in Kathy's office to ask her a load of question as he did in canon. So, he missed the story of Merope Gaunt. Although, because of Harry, we saw that Kathy wouldn't have told him, anyway, just as she only revealed the thieving thing.
Regardless, you can see that with what he said, Dumbledore was referring to the Riddle couple, both of Tom's parents, thinking Kathy didn't know anything about either of them. So he made up that they had died in an accident, because it was the simplest and most easy thing anyone could believe.
But, unknown to him, Kathy does have the memory of Merope Gaunt giving birth to Tom. So she knows that Tom's mother didn't die in any accident. Dumbledore was unwittingly saved because for her, the statement of 'the Riddles died in an accident', can only refer to Riddle the father and the man's side of the family, which she knows nothing about. Even this doesn't perfectly fit. Her mind adapted to the facts implanted as best as it could.
That's why the spell didn't erase her memory of Merope Gaunt, but only made her feel certain that -since Harry and Tom being twins is now an incontrovertible factual truth in her mind- she simply doesn't remember Harry's birth after Tom's, because the memory is vague due to the passage of time.
On the other hand, one memory that was affected, and part of it erased, was that of when Tom asphyxiated her. Because then they had been arguing about not telling Harry the truth, about not being twins. She remembers the asphyxiation, and that they were arguing, but she doesn't remember why.
Lastly, the memory which was completely wiped out from her mind was that of the day in which they discovered Harry on the doorstep and decided to tell him Tom was his twin.
This memory is the only one Dumbledore thought would be affected by the spell. He isn't aware of what happened with the other memories, since he had no reason to even know about their existence.
This is one more case, in this fic, in which we can see that the wizard isn't infallible or omniscient. I don't like my Dumbledores to be perfect, and very much love him as I pictured him in canon, with many failings, much depth of feeling, weighted down with regrets and with the burden of the responsibilities he puts on his shoulders, which not all of them should be his, but he takes them on nonetheless, because he tries to use his power and brilliancy to help the wizarding world. In the end, he's a man with a core of steel, who has to sacrifice much of himself and of others, but who ultimately means good, no matter the many mistakes he makes and no matter if we think he's seriously misguided sometimes.
Now, as for Alice, her memories were affected just the same way as Kathy's, though probably more profoundly because Alice certainly must have thought about the whole 'twins lie' much more frequently than Kathy.
Regardless, you must see that Dumbledore implanted those facts, and let them spread and act in their minds, modifying accordingly, not because he likes to butt his nose into everything and loves to manipulate people.
No, he did it out of necessity, because if he left Kathy believing that Hogwarts knew who Harry's parents had been –as he assured her when he had to tell the lie that both boys' parents had enrolled them in the school- then he knew that Kathy, as sharp and inquisitive as she is, would have looked into it, more for Harry's sake than anything else.
So Dumbledore, to preserve the secrecy of Hogwarts and even the wizarding world, had no choice. And also, since he sympathized and understood Alice's decision, he decided that the lie about the boys being twins was a good thing, for the boys themselves.
All of this will have further consequences, of course… *winks*
Part I: Chapter 8
Tom sat on his bed, with an open book lying on his lap as he watched how Harry played with Nagini on the boy's own bed.
Both of them had already packed their things for the trip, in the following morning, to Southend-on-Sea. And in about an hour or so, one of the caregivers would start their rounds through the children's bedrooms to turn off the knob of their oil lamps and order them to go to sleep.
Meanwhile, Tom was mussing about what he would do the following day. During their last trip to the seaside, he had discovered a cave. Well, both Harry and he had.
It had been a cloudy, chilly day, too cold for swimming, so Mr. Hutchins had been playing with Harry and his stupid friends, making sand castles of all things, while the older boys, with Dennis on the lead, had been torturing a stranded starfish with a stick.
Mrs. Cole and Alice had been sitting several feet away from everyone, on the large table cloth they always brought to the beach; Kathy looking stern and grave as she carried a whispered conversation with Alice, while Alice hadn't seemed to be paying her much notice. The stupid woman had been gazing at Hutchins, with that idiotic, love-struck mooncalf expression she always wore when she watched Hutchins playing with the children. He pitied the man, truly.
Out of all the adults, he could say that Hutchins was the only one he respected to some degree. He tolerated him, at least, since Hutchins seemed to be the only one who had half a brain.
The man read a lot and liked the same sort of books that Tom did; non-fiction texts about serious matters, about politics or science, or history and the sort. And Tom somewhat enjoyed his discussions with him.
Nevertheless, he couldn't fully respect him due to the obvious love and affection Hutchins felt for the annoying, silly Alice Jones, and due to the man's beliefs regarding an ideal society where all were equal – such a ridiculously nonsensical and idiotic wish.
Regardless, the point was that that day, Tom had been bored out of his mind. He had miscalculated and he had finished, before expected, the book he had brought to the trip. Suddenly feeling the urge to stretch out his legs, he had stood up and started walking away.
He had smirked when, as he had predicted, Harry had snapped his head up to observe him. Moments later, Harry had run towards him, walking along his side, as he said excitedly, "Are we going treasure hunting?"
Tom hadn't lowered himself to reply to Harry's stupid question and wishful thinking, but he had been satisfied with the proof that, no matter what Harry was doing at the time, he always had half of his attention riveted on Tom.
Indeed, Harry had always rebelled against him in the matter of his right to spend time with his silly little friends. But at least, the boy always dropped them and came to Tom's side if he saw that Tom would be doing something interesting.
Harry may prefer his little friends for playing childish games, but he always chose Tom over them, in the end.
So both of them had meandered along the shoreline, without much hope of finding anything worthwhile. But, when the rest of the people were nothing more than distant black dots to them, Tom had caught sight of something. A few feet away from them, behind a bunch of towering boulders, he had seen a large, wide crack, with waves crashing against it, and with a hissing wind echoing from its depths.
Out of boredom more than curiosity, Tom had started climbing the slippery boulders with some difficulty. Behind him, Harry had seemed very excited, yapping constantly about what he imagined they would find on the other side.
It had been nothing magnificent, just the entrance to a cave. Nonetheless, they had gone inside, the wind howling through the cavernous, dripping rock walls. It had been dark, with only dim daylight spearing through the crack that served as the entrance.
"Look, I'm Frankenstein!" had cried out Harry, making stupid roaring sounds as he moved his arms and hands, forming a grotesque shadow on the cave's walls.
Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein' had been, then, the latest story Hutchins had been reading to the boys of the orphanage. Tom hadn't paid much attention to it, just as he hadn't been interested in the tales from The Illiad or The Odyssey, simply because any fiction was a waste of time in his opinion, and those of the fantasy genre were the worst of them all – ridiculous, fanciful and childish.
Though he had been viciously amused when, for weeks after, many of the children had had nightmares, crying and screaming in the middle of the night, waking up the whole orphanage. Due to it, Alice's reprimanding yells at Hutchins, in the following days, had been vastly entertaining.
The only one who hadn't had nightmares, besides Tom of course, had been Harry. Not that it had surprised Tom; his brother did seem to like his monsters, even gross, murdering ones like Frankenstein's. Harry thought It was fascinating.
"Dr. Frankenstein's monster," Tom had corrected absent-mindedly, as he observed the shadows, which, in truth, did look scary and ominous. The whole cave -though they hadn't had time to explore it into its depths- had a spine-chilling and eerie quality to it.
His idea about how to use the cave had been born then, even more so when Harry had suddenly paled and stopped flailing his arms around in that stupid manner.
"What is it?" Tom had snapped, when he saw that Harry had been staring at him, with a look akin to fear.
"Nothin'," his brother had mumbled, looking wary and uncomfortable. "It's just that – for a moment- I thought I saw… I imagined, it was a sort of flash…" He had trailed off and then finally muttered, "The red eyes."
Tom hadn't needed to ask him what he was referring to. Harry's nightmare about a green light and red eyes had become less frequent during the years, but the boy still had them. And it still annoyed Tom, because it was simply stupid. Though he hadn't missed how Harry had been fixedly staring into his eyes right then, as if what the boy had seen was Tom's eyes being red, like those of the nightmare.
And Tom had smirked at that, having one more proof of how scary and eerie the cave could be since it affected his brother to the point that the boy was imagining such imbecilic things. It would be perfect for his plan.
Thus, at present, Tom was pondering how he would carry it out. He would have to ditch Harry and be careful of not garnering Kathy's attention –the nasty old bat had a very sharp eye. But he already knew who his victims would be and what he would say to them to cajole them into following him into the cave - and what he would do to them once they were inside.
Choosing his victims had been easy. It would be the three who annoyed him the most:
Amy Benson because the thirteen-year-old girl –the prettiest and sweetest in the orphanage! according to everyone- was a pest. Always fluttering her eyelashes at all the boys, simpering and smiling coyly.
He despised her, further, because her interest in Harry had only increased with the years. She was always around his brother, hanging from his arm, giggling and flirting obnoxiously. And Harry was a dunce and didn't shove her away in disgust, as he should.
Billy Stubbs because the boy was older now and seemed to have gained a modicum of self-confidence - and even a backbone. Billy needed a reminder of why he feared Tom, and also, after three years, the boy needed to remember what he couldn't blab about and what would happen to him if he even tried.
All of Harry's friends had forgotten about the 'fantastic' things Harry had done and displayed, long ago during those months when Tom had ignored his little brother. And Harry, just as Tom had ordered him to, had never attempted to do anything like that again.
Nevertheless, that meant that Billy Stubb's memory about what Tom had demonstratively done to Puffy the Bunny had also lost some of its strength. And Tom was more than willing to remind him about it, with full details.
Lastly, Dennis Bishop, because the boy was a bully and still shot Tom nasty, hateful glances but was too much of a coward to do anything to him. Also because the boy would soon be turning eighteen and thus would be leaving the orphanage, and it would be his parting gift to the boy.
Moreover, because Tom didn't like all the attention Harry gave the bully. Ever since Hutchins had taught Harry how to fight, his brother had been planning and vying to find another opportunity in which to fight Dennis without the caregivers noticing or interfering.
Ever since Harry's first victory against a boy much older than him – and Tom hadn't expected Harry to win when the boy was tiny compared to Dennis, though it seemed that technique, practice, and flash-like reflexes had trumped brute strength in that occasion- his brother had more than once ignored him whilst planning how to beat Dennis to a pulp once more. And Tom didn't like to be ignored.
Tom let out a displeased grunt at that thought, and Harry turned around to glance at him, cocking his head to a side when he saw his brother's expression; one that indicated that Tom was up to something - something he wouldn't like.
Harry was about to open his mouth when he caught sight of the book resting on his brother's lap. It was the one Tom had filched from the latest bookshop in which they had carried out their little act, about two months ago during the orphanage's incursion into commercial London. It was about 'Herpetotogy', or something of the sort – in essence, about snakes.
He huffed and turned back to scratch Nagini's scales, making her hiss contentedly. Tom believed that there was something wrong with their friend, that was why his brother had filched that book.
According to Tom, it wasn't normal that Nagini hadn't grown a single inch -neither in length nor width- during the many years they had known her. But Harry was quite happy about that, since he could easily carry her under his shirt, coiled around his forearm.
But then, when some of her scales had turned black or violet, beginning to form some strange pattern along her thin body, Tom had been further flummoxed because he couldn't find out what kind of snake she was. Her 'species' didn't appear in his book, at least not the pattern which her scales now formed.
Furthermore, once, when Harry had gone to the bathroom to brush his teeth and also wash his feet – because Tom wouldn't let him inside his bed if he didn't, the prissy bastard- he had returned to their bedroom to find Tom with a strange expression on his face.
Nagini had been placidly dozing off on Harry's bed, and according to Tom, he had, for a second, seen how her scales had turned grey, camouflaging with the pillow. Something only chameleons and such could do, his brother had said.
Nevertheless, Harry didn't see why his brother frowned because of that. They had 'special abilities', so why would it be so surprising if Nagini could do strange things too?
However, Tom seemed… 'skeptic' – that was the word, the one he had overheard Alice using when she had been arguing with Kathy, because Tom still refused to go to church and Harry wouldn't go either if his brother didn't. Alice had bemoaned that Tom didn't believe in God and had called him a skeptic, but had said that they shouldn't force them to attend church, regardless.
Harry scratched the soft, small scales under Nagini's jaw –her favorite petting place- and then tugged the hem of his pajama top, scowling with annoyance. The pants didn't reach his ankles and his top hung loosely from one of his shoulders, displaying it, and was also too short, showing a bit of his midriff.
Oh, he was proud that he had had a growth spurt, at last, but it had been way after the rest of the boys, and even girls, had already grown taller. And even though he had gained some inches in height, he remained skinny, and Tom was still nearly a full head taller than him.
'A late bloomer', Alice had called him, thinking it was endearing. Harry had glared at her, not finding it amusing, at all. It galled him.
Even the grandmotherly coos of old matrons had started vexing him – as if he was some kind of pretty-faced doll. And the way they pinched his cheeks with sharp fingernails –calling him 'so handsome', and 'sweet' and 'cute'- truly hurt.
Why didn't they do that to Tom as well? His brother was called 'handsome' too, but no old lady dared to pinch Tom in any way or place.
Harry didn't think it was fair, not at all.
It highly miffed him nowadays, though he forced himself to put up with it, because he was aware that his still 'adorable' looks gave him a free rein, allowing him to do many things, unsuspected and unpunished, he otherwise wouldn't be able to.
Suddenly, a knock sounded on their door, and with his eyes growing wide in alarm, Harry instantly yanked his bed sheet over Nagini, as he hissed urgently, "Don't move – and keep quiet!"
He shot Tom a panicky glance, because no one had ever discovered her thus far, but he knew it wouldn't go over well if they did. And they should still have an hour before they were told to turn off their oil lamp!
Alice didn't like snakes; no one seemed to, though Harry had no idea why. It wasn't as if Nagini was dangerous – she did have a vicious streak and liked to torment and play with her food before eating them, but that was hardly cause for concern. She was a snake, after all.
But no, it wasn't even that. The reason he panicked was because Nagini was a willful creature and he wasn't sure she would obey him. Most times he was glad that she didn't – he didn't want to be called 'master' and be treated as such, as she did with Tom. But now, Tom wouldn't have the time to issue his own orders to her.
Indeed, just as Harry fretfully jumped to his feet, hiding with his body where Nagini laid coiled under the bed sheet, their door opened.
As Alice entered their room, he plastered a wide, innocent smile on his face. Though, in the next second, he frowned a bit when he saw her rubbing her forehead, as if it ached.
Though any concern for her evaporated when he caught sight of the man who walked in, right behind her. His green eyes nearly bulged out, round as platters.
"Tom, Harry, you've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberdoor-"
"Dumbledore," interrupted the man, warmly smiling, his eyes even seemed to twinkle behind his half-moon glasses as he swept his gaze over them. "Albus Dumbledore." He then turned to Alice as he added very kindly and politely, "I would like to speak with them in private, if it would not be too much of an inconvenience."
"Oh." Alice blinked at the man, and then mumbled, "Yes, of course - certainly."
She looked disappointed, but then shot Harry a smile that looked tense to him, and left the room, closing the door shut behind her.
The man did a strange thing then, he waved his hand at the door – as if he was doing something, but nothing happened. However, he seemed satisfied as he turned around to gaze at them once more.
Harry shot his brother a bewildered glance, seeing that Tom had also stood up, though his brother's shoulders were stiff and tense, and he seemed to be skewering the man with narrowed, dark blue eyes.
"Who are you?" demanded Tom, in that chilly tone of voice he used when he was ordering people around – and which made most cringe as if they had been struck by a blow.
"As I've said, my name is Albus Dumbledore," said the man placidly, not looking at all ruffled by Tom's tone, though by the way he spoke, he seemed to be in a hurry. "I'm a professor at a school in Scotland, called Hogwarts-"
"Professor?" piped in Harry then, shooting his brother a quizzical glance. "That's a teacher, right?"
Tom nodded in response, very briskly and briefly, but didn't peel his eyes away from the man.
His brother didn't say a word, but a fearful suspicion then crept in Harry's mind. The wary way Alice had looked, how tense Tom was now… And he remembered how, so long ago, Tom had warned him that if he kept doing strange things in front of others, someday someone could come from an asylum to take them away.
He hadn't done anything in years -not unless he was in the privacy of their bedroom- but the explosion of Mrs. Sharpe's window three years ago had been his fault. And he had overheard Alice tell Kathy that Jenkins had been going around the neighborhood blaming him and Tom for it.
His heart pumped fast and hard with fear, and Harry quickly reached Tom's side, fisting his small hands, ready to do anything in their defense.
He didn't think he could take down the man before them, but he could land some blows.
If Alice and Kathy were behind this –and it hurt and pained him to even think it, he felt so deeply betrayed- then he would shout and scream, and make them run into the room. And he would put his most pathetic and wounded expression on his face, and he would sob so heart-wrenchingly that he knew he would be able to make them change their minds.
At last, with all the bravery he could muster and ready for battle, he snapped, "You don't look like a teacher." Which was true, since the man seemed to belong to an asylum rather than work in one, given how he was dressed. Nevertheless, he continued sharply, "Are you a doctor – from the asylum?"
The man –Dumbledore, Harry reminded himself- looked surprised at that. He shook his head and said kindly, "I am not from an asylum. I work at a school called Hogwarts and I've come to offer both of you a place there – in your new school, if you would like to come. If you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts."
Mr. Dumbledore stared at them expectantly, though Harry noticed how the man's bespectacled gaze lingered on his scar, as if he was curious and perhaps puzzled about it.
His brother must have noticed too, because Tom clamped a hand on his forearm and pulled him further against his chest, making them take several steps backwards.
Tom was evidently leaving room for the man to sit on his bed, but remained standing. And his grip prevented Harry from doing anything else but stand next to him.
It didn't escape Harry's notice how Tom had angled their bodies, with their calves hitting Harry's bed, thus making sure Mr. Dumbledore wouldn't sit on it, where Nagini lay under the sheets.
"Hogwarts," continued Mr. Dumbledore, once he had placidly seated himself on Tom's bed, seemingly not minding that they were too suspicious of him to do the same, "is a school for people with special abilities -"
"Special abilities?" blurted out Harry, his eyes round, suddenly feeling a sense of exhilaration rushing through him. He snapped his head up to gaze at his brother. "Tom! He knows! He's talking about-"
"Shut up!" snapped Tom at him, looking angered as he shot him a brief glare, before he narrowed his eyes at Mr. Dumbledore once more, adding harshly, "We don't know yet what he's talking about."
Mr. Dumbledore remained silent for a second and then peered at them over the brim of his half-moon spectacles. "I'm talking about magic – what you can both do."
"Magic!" Harry cried out, at the same time that his brother did. Though while Harry had nearly jumped in the air with excitement, Tom had sneered the word out, glaring and scowling at the man seated before them.
"You mean it's magic what we can do?" rambled Harry joyously, waving his hands around. "Like in Alice's fairy tales and all-"
"What can you do?" prompted Mr. Dumbledore, gazing at him gently.
"Oh, many things," chirped Harry happily. "We can move things around, and once I disappeared from one spot and appeared in another – though Tom didn't let me try again. And we can also-"
"You're lying," said Tom then, acidly, cutting short Harry's ramblings as he pierced Mr. Dumbledore with eyes narrowed to slits. "My brother believes you because he's stupid. But I know there's no such thing as magic-"
"How do you explain, then, what your brother and you can do?"
Tom's jaw clenched, but he didn't answer and Mr. Dumbledore gazed at him indulgently, before he said firmly, "I assure you, Magic is very much real, as is the Magical World where wizards, like me and like you, live-"
"Wizards… we're wizards… Truly? Really?" breathed out Harry, peering at the man with wide, hopeful eyes.
Mr. Dumbledore warmly smiled at him, nodding his head.
Harry instantly rounded on his brother, digging an elbow into Tom's ribs, feeling revindicated as he laughed, "See, Tom! And all the times you called me an idiot because I thought that perhaps Alice's tales might be right. And when I told you that there had to be other people like us, and when I said that-"
"That doesn't mean you were right," bit out Tom, shooting him a dark glare, before he transferred it to Mr. Dumbledore. "And I still don't believe it. Where is this 'Magical World', then? We've never seen it, nor a single thing, sign or clue, that-"
"The Magical World is kept hidden from muggles-"
"Muggles?" snapped Tom instantly, demanding an explanation and clearly peeved that the man was using terms he didn't know.
"Non-magical people," said Mr. Dumbledore succinctly.
"Muggles…" repeated Tom under his breath, and Harry shot him a glance at that, due to the tone of voice his brother had used; as if 'muggles' represented a lowly thing, as if Tom felt reassured by the fact that there was a tag for such people, since it proved what his brother had always believed, that they were both –and Tom in particular– superior to the people around them.
Nevertheless, Harry was far too giddy to be bothered with that, and he focused all his attention back to the man, as he rambled eagerly, "And what kind of place is this Magical World? Do you have castles and knights? Dragons and princes, and do people fly with wings, and are there houses made of chocolate, and is there-"
He was interrupted when Mr. Dumbledore chuckled under his long, auburn beard, looking amused, his eyes twinkling warmly as he gazed at him. "We don't have knights nor princes or princesses. We have no monarchy. But we do have enchanted castles – Hogwarts is a good example of one. We do have dragons, cared for and looked after by wizards, in reservations. And wizards and witches are able to fly, but aided, usually with broomsticks." He stroked his beard, and chuckled again. "We don't have houses made of chocolate or candies, but I think it's an excellent idea. I see that one of your caregivers must be a Grimm brothers fan."
"Oh…" breathed out Harry, with an entranced expression on his face, his wildest dreams already coming true by the mere mention that people could fly –and with broomsticks!– and that dragons really existed.
"You can learn about all of this, and much more, if you choose to attend Hogwarts-"
"Of course we do!" piped in Harry instantly, nodding repeatedly and most vehemently, nearly bursting with enthusiasm and elation– he couldn't wait!
When his brother said nothing, he spun around to peer up at him, wondering what was wrong. Tom was still fixedly staring at Mr. Dumbledore, his expression hard and grave.
"You could be making everything up – trying to trick us," said Tom sharply, dislike and suspicion for the man dripping in his every word. "We know what we can do, but we don't know that you're like us. Do something to prove that what you say is true."
Mr. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I will, if you are accepting your place at Hogwarts-"
"Prove it first!" commanded Tom with ringing force, like a reverberating whiplash.
Mr. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed minutely, evidently not pleased at the boy's tone of voice, but then his gaze flickered across the room. He seemed to be looking for something, for a particular reason, though Harry couldn't fathom what he was searching for.
There was nothing in the room except their small nightstand with the oil lamp, their two beds against opposing walls, and their old, rackety wardrobe. The man seemed interested in the latter, since his eyes fixed on it, a grave expression growing on his face as if he was about to chide them for something.
The man stood up and pulled a stick of some sort from his pocket, aiming it at the wardrobe, and then, a second later, flames erupted.
Harry cried out in alarm and shock, as he leapt forward to attempt to stop the fire, somehow. "No! All our things!"
However, in the next blink of the eye, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged. Harry stared, and blinked, and then gaped as he spun around to glance at Mr. Dumbledore. He frowned slightly when he saw that the man looked puzzled – the man's eyes once more roving over their bedroom, looking for who-knew-what.
Meanwhile, he saw that his brother was standing there, with a fascinated and greedy expression on his face - he looked almost feverish.
"What's that?" demanded Tom, his eyes gleaming as he pointed at Mr. Dumbledore's stick.
"A wand. Wizards and witches use wands to channel their magic, and thus cast controlled spells-"
"Where can we get them?" interrupted Tom instantly, clearly at present not too interested in explanations.
Mr. Dumbledore peered at him, intently, over the top of his half-moon spectacles. There was no warm smile on his face or twinkle in his eyes, as he said, "If you both accept your place at Hogwarts-"
"We do!" snapped Tom impatiently, glaring at him as if the man was purposely keeping the information regarding where to get wands as some sort of blackmail material to be used against him.
"Then you will address me as 'sir' or 'professor'," continued Mr. Dumbledore as if Tom hadn't interrupted him at all.
Then, Harry felt it; something shifted. His brother and the man stared at each other, for a fleeting moment, as if they were having a fierce battle of wills. Though it didn't surprise him one bit when Tom's whole countenance changed, abruptly.
"Of course, Professor Dumbledore. I apologize," said Tom very politely, looking properly chastised.
Harry swallowed his snort of amusement, as he saw that Mr. Dumbledore believed that Tom was being sincere, just like everyone else who had been duped by his brother when he employed such tactics. Though, perhaps not – the man didn't smile again.
Nevertheless, Mr. Dumbledore didn't seem to hold a grudge, as he then said pleasantly, "You can buy your wands and spellbooks at Diagon Alley."
The man plucked out two leather pouches from his pockets, along with two thick envelopes. Mr. Dumbledore handed all of it over to them, as he went on to explain about Hogwarts' fund for those who needed monetary assistance and about how to get to Diagon Alley. When the man mentioned 'Tom' the bartender, he didn't seem to catch his brother's thinning and twist of the lips.
Harry was tempted to say something about it, to taunt his brother about how he thought 'Tom' was a common name. But he remained silent out of loyalty, and also because another reason his brother despised his own name was because he shared it with Mr. Jenkins – and that was no laughing matter.
Furthermore, Mr. Dumbledore seemed to have other things on his mind, and the man's gaze was starting once more to flicker to his scar.
Harry didn't open his envelope or his leather pouch, neither did Tom. It was clear that they were of the same mind – they would do it when they were alone, to be able to freely discuss the whole affair.
"May I ask how that wound on your forehead was inflicted?"
Harry had expected Mr. Dumbledore's question, given the man's lingering gaze. However, what he didn't expect was that the man would stretch out a hand as he spoke, intending to touch his scar.
Instantly, Harry recoiled away from the fingers, almost violently.
He never allowed anyone to touch it, except Tom of course, who could soothe it for some reason. Even in his earlier memories, when Alice used to touch his scar before he harshly told her not to, the scar had prickled most unpleasantly, badly reacting to her touch.
And just as Harry had taken a step away from the man's hand, it seemed that his brother had been thinking along those lines as well, since Harry abruptly found himself being pulled back against Tom's chest.
His brother wrapped his arms around Harry from behind, nearly crushing him with a sort of possessive protectiveness, as he hissed out furiously, "Don't touch him!"
Mr. Dumbledore's reaching hand hung in mid-air, and a mesh of expressions crossed the man's face for a brief moment, displaying puzzlement and apprehension, Harry thought; as if there was something bad and wrong about his scar, which the man felt but couldn't quite explain to himself.
It was very strange, and Harry didn't like the man's reaction at all.
At first, he had been suspicious and wary of Mr. Dumbledore, but then, when the man had chuckled and gazed at him warmly as he told him about flying on broomsticks, dragons and how houses made of chocolate was a good idea, Harry had started to truly like him, thinking he had found a kindred spirit.
Now, however, he wanted the man gone. Also because his scar was starting to throb painfully, and he could feel that it was due to Tom; it felt like when Tom had punished Dennis and made the boy hurt.
Harry was convinced that Tom was prepared to do the same to Mr. Dumbledore, and the man seemed to sense something of the sort, because he was staring at Tom with a grave expression on his face, as if appraising him and not liking what he found.
"It's just a scar – I've always had it," muttered Harry, gently rubbing his forehead, still within the protective fold of his brother's arms, as he tried to ease the situation and satisfy the man's curiosity so that he would leave.
Mr. Dumbledore dropped his hand and stopped scrutinizing Tom, and some of the tension seemed to dissipate as a calm and placid expression spread on the man's face. He nodded, looking as if he accepted Harry's reply.
"Very well," he said, "I believe everything is settled, then." He shot them a glance over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "If you are certain you don't require my escort to Diagon Alley, for the day you decide to go-"
"We don't," snapped Tom curtly, from the top of Harry's head. "We know our way around London. We don't need your help – we'll find it."
Mr. Dumbledore said nothing and merely nodded once more, giving them a parting bow of the head as he moved towards the door. Harry exhaled with relief – but he did it too soon.
Just then, their friend decided to remind everyone of her existence, that she was still there, and wanted some attention and would have it.
And Harry blamed Tom for it, because she had adopted some of his brother's worse personality traits, one of them being getting irritated when she was ignored by Harry for too long.
From under the bed sheets, coming out as muffled sounds, Nagini started hissing some annoyed and complaining nonsense, and Harry –with his nerves already frayed and being too tired to think straight- reacted automatically.
"Keep silent!"
Harry froze the moment he realized what he had done – that he had not only said it, but also hissed it.
He didn't think that this ability of theirs was particularly important and even less, special, but Tom had interrupted him when he had been telling Mr. Dumbledore about the things they could do. And he didn't think it had been an accident. It was clear that Tom hadn't wanted to give the man more information about them than necessary, and this certainly wasn't something the man needed to know, either way.
Feeling as if he had let down his brother, he bit his bottom lip and dared to peer up at Tom, expecting to see him glaring down at him. But Tom wasn't looking at him, and his arms -still wrapped around Harry- hadn't tensed nor were they squashing him painfully as punishment for his slip of the tongue.
Harry realized what was going on when he saw that Tom was staring, with narrowed, scrutinizing eyes, at Mr. Dumbledore, who seemed to have spun around the moment he had heard the hissing.
The man was now piercing Harry with his eyes, with such intensity as Harry had never seen before. Mr. Dumbledore's sky blue eyes were roving over Harry's features, inspecting them, as if looking for some kind of clue.
Then, the man gestured at Harry's bed, where all of them could see a lump moving fretfully under the sheets. "May I?"
"Go ahead," said Tom coolly, still without peeling his eyes from Mr. Dumbledore, as he pulled Harry to a side to give the man space.
Mr. Dumbledore grabbed one end of the bed sheet and pulled it away, carefully and even gently, but that didn't change the fact that it revealed their little friend to his eyes.
"Can I speak now?" hissed Nagini, her tone of voice showing her extreme annoyance with them. She then coiled her tail, using it to prop herself up so that her head rose and she could peer at the man staring back at her. "Who's this? The human who's been yapping all this time?"
She blinked slowly, flickering her forked tongue out. "What is he wearing?" She sounded as horrified as Harry had felt when he had seen Mr. Dumbledore's velvet, yellow suit. But her interest in the man didn't last long. She flicked her tail, as if dismissing him as being below her notice, and then reared her head back to skewer Harry with her golden eyes, as she bit out accusingly, "And why were you ignoring me? I was cold!"
The damage was already done, so Harry simply sat on his bed, rolling his eyes at her attitude, and then offered his forearm. Nagini didn't waste a second. She slithered up and squirmed and shifted until she was cozily wrapped around his forearm, leaving only her head popping out from under his sleeve.
"You can speak to snakes?"
Harry glanced up at Mr. Dumbledore at that, thinking it was a pretty stupid question, all things considered.
"So can I," decided Tom to inform him. But when Harry glanced at him, he didn't see the superiority or smugness he would have expected at that proclamation; because of course Tom wouldn't want the man to think that Harry could do something that he couldn't.
But since Tom wasn't acting as Harry thought he would, he knew something was going on; something which Tom had noticed and he hadn't. Indeed, Tom hadn't stopped staring at Mr. Dumbledore. So now Harry observed him as well, and he saw that after Tom's declaration, the man looked even more wary and befuddled than before.
"Both of you?" Mr. Dumbledore said, as if he needed to reiterate on the point because it was too impossible to believe.
Harry's opinion about the man's intelligence was dropping fast. They were twins, so if Harry could speak to snakes it wasn't too surprising that Tom could as well! And yet, the man looked gobsmacked.
"Is it normal for a wizard to be able to speak to snakes?" asked Tom coolly, his manner nonchalant.
"It is… unusual," said Mr. Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, his expression quickly having changed to a calm one, "but not unheard of."
Tom's eyes narrowed, and Harry didn't miss either that by the sound of it, and due to the man's pause, there was much that Mr. Dumbledore wasn't telling them about, regarding the matter.
Mr. Dumbledore's eyes once more moved curiously over Harry's face, and then also over Tom's. He seemed to want to linger there with them for some more time, but then he looked hurried once again.
He shot them parting nods, as he intoned pleasantly, "Good-bye, Tom, Harry. I shall see you at Hogwarts."
And with that, the man left and closed the door behind him.
Harry let out an exhalation of breath, carding his fingers through his hair as he glanced up at his brother. "What do think that was all about?"
Tom wore a pensive expression on his face as he sat beside Harry. "He didn't like it, that we could speak to snakes." Harry nodded, since he had felt the same, though his brother continued, now with a gleam of relish in his dark blue eyes, "He fears it."
Harry shot him a frown. He hadn't noticed anything that would imply that much. Mr. Dumbledore had been uneasy- but fearful? Though he wasn't surprised by his brother's reaction if it was true. Of course Tom would revel in the notion that Mr. Dumbledore -a full-grown wizard who thus had to have more special abilities than they did- was scared of him.
"Why would he fear it?" piped in Harry, his frown deepening.
Tom shot him a smug smirk. "That's something we'll have to figure out, won't we?"
"Right." Harry rolled his eyes; he should have seen that one coming.
Then he stood up and grabbed Tom's envelope and leather pouch, since he already had his in his hands. He took one step forward, to the very center of the small space between their beds, and then used the tip of his toes to wrangle with the loose floorboard.
The rectangular piece of wood came off and Harry crouched down to look at the secret hiding place where they kept all their 'treasures' – all the things they had filched from stores, throughout the years.
It had been Harry who, long ago, had complained that they couldn't keep all the stuff in their wardrobe. Because every time he had to pull out a shirt, Tom's countless stolen books came tumbling out.
So one day Harry had chosen the floorboard that creaked the loudest when he stepped on it. And for a whole week, he had stomped and jumped on it, until one edge chipped and he was able to yank it off.
The dusty space under it wasn't too deep, but it was large, horizontally. He only had to stick in his arm, up to his elbow, and he could reach all the things they had stuffed in there.
Of all the things they had filched from stores for Harry, not much was left except a motorcar toy and a model of an airplane of the Great War – Harry's most cherished possessions. This was simply because other than that, and some story books, Harry usually made Tom filch food, candy or chocolate for him, while he acted his part.
And thus, the space was mostly occupied by Tom's innumerable books – his brother only wanted that from stores. Even Tom's once cherished cardboard box was still there, though the boy hadn't opened it in ages and Harry knew that his brother didn't value its contents anymore, not since he had made Tom give back Alice's thimble.
As Harry stuck their envelopes and leather pouches inside, he said idly, "We can open them tomorrow. We don't have time now - soon someone will come to check if we're asleep."
Much of his excitement, caused by Mr. Dumbledore's disclosure about magic and its world, had significantly dimmed after the strange things that the man had done – Dumbledore's reaction to his scar and about the whole speaking-with-snakes ability.
Oh, Harry was still a bit dazed and giddy, but he was wary too.
He turned around as he put the floorboard back in place, just to see Tom nodding at him in agreement.
As he stood up again, a mighty yawn escaped from Harry's mouth, and he didn't give Tom a chance to fight him.
Tom was still seated on Harry's bed, they were both in their pajamas, and Nagini was already dozing off, curled around his forearm. Thus, Harry shoved his brother unto the mattress –making Tom let out a startled grunt- and he quickly plopped himself down by his brother's side, as he found the bed sheet Mr. Dumbledore had thrown to a side, yanking it up to cover them.
"We'll sleep in my bed tonight," he mumbled sleepily, as he snuggled up to Tom's warm body, very much like Nagini always did with him. His brother could be a very cozy, fluffy pillow when he let it happen.
Tom grumbled about something under his breath, but he didn't protest any further at the use Harry was making of him. The taller boy simply stretched out a hand towards the nightstand, to turn off the oil lamp, and then allowed Harry to happily wrap himself around Tom as he pleased.
Nevertheless, Harry could still see his brother's face under the dim moonlight that speared through their thin, frayed curtains. Tom didn't look as if he would be falling asleep anytime soon – he had that expression on his face which told Harry that he had many things on his mind he was musing about.
Indeed, his brother looked conflicted, and Harry had an inkling about why. Sometimes, Harry didn't understand Tom at all, not his motives or reasons. Other times, like then, he could read his brother like an open book.
"I was right and you're not happy about it," remarked Harry, a bit of a taunting tone in his voice, as he tilted his head up –which rested on Tom's chest- to peer at him. He even shot his brother one of those smug smirks Tom so liked to use on him.
Tom merely graced him with an annoyed scowl before he went back to stare at the ceiling.
Undaunted, Harry continued, now trying to soothe his brother's ruffled feathers, "But you know, it's not a bad thing that there are others like us. It doesn't mean we're less special – that's what you don't like, right? That we're no longer unique?"
His brother grunted as a mode of response – Tom clearly wasn't in a mood for much chatter.
"But once, long ago when we discussed the possibility," added Harry softly, "you said that there was one positive thing if there were others like us – that we could learn from them more about our special abilities. Well, you were also right, then. You see?"
Tom scoffed, and for a moment Harry was disappointed, thinking that would be the only thing he would get from him.
However, his brother cleared his throat and then said superiorly, a tone of voice that some times irritated Harry but which now felt comforting simply because it was pure Tom, "Of course I was right. We'll go to this Hogwarts school and see what it has to offer. If I think-"
"If we think," corrected Harry pointedly, shooting him a dark glare.
Tom scoffed once again, this time sounding snide and dismissive. But then he smirked and mussed Harry's hair, as he said placidly, "Of course, little brother. If we think that what they have to teach us is useful and worthwhile, then we'll stay. We'll learn as much as we can and then make our own way in the world."
Annoyed, Harry swatted his brother's fingers away from his hair. His brother always mocked him for having wild, unruly hair, but then Tom always enjoyed messing it up even more.
When he stopped battling against his brother's fingers, he asked in a deceptive, mild tone of voice, "Then our plan of escaping and going to America when we turned fifteen…?"
"Postponed," said Tom curtly, leveling at Harry a hard gaze, as if he was readying himself for a fight.
But his brother had nothing to fear; he had replied exactly what Harry had wanted to hear.
He shot Tom a wide grin, and chirped loftily, "Good. And by the way, tomorrow we won't be going to Southend-on-Sea. We'll stay put, and when everyone's gone, we'll slip away from the orphanage. We'll go to Diagon Alley – I can't wait to see what this 'magical world' is like."
Much to his surprise, Tom did put up a fight regarding that. It made Harry very suspicious. Tom was the one person who didn't find much enjoyment in their trips to the country or seaside, and now he was arguing against missing it.
But in the end, Harry won, just as he knew he would because he had ways in which to make Tom end up doing whatever he wanted. It never failed.
He cajoled and whined and peered up at him with wide, hurt, teary eyes, and all together made such a nuisance of himself that Tom had no choice but to relent, because his brother was well aware that Harry could easily and effortlessly nag him during the whole night and not let him sleep a wink.
It was simply a matter of who, out of the two of them, could be more stubborn and bothersome. And Harry always came on top, in both aspects.
And so, Harry fell asleep, hiding a small, smug smirk against his brother's chest, his thin arms wrapped around him as if Tom was his very own cuddly teddy bear.
Nearly one hour before, Albus Dumbledore had left St. Jerome's Orphanage, his mind swirling with countless, puzzling thoughts.
After seeing Mrs. Cole and before meeting the boys, he had simply thought that Harry had to be a halfblood and Tom a muggleborn.
Even if Horace had been of the opinion that 'Marvolo' had to be a wizarding name, Albus hadn't given it much importance. It wouldn't be the first time muggles came up with a strange name that sounded like the ones used in the wizarding world.
Moreover, the name 'Marvolo' didn't ring any bells. He had never been acquainted or heard of a wizard called such, and it wasn't one of the many names that certain wizarding families liked to bestow on their children, as per tradition of their lines.
However, after seeing the boys, Albus was now certain of a couple of things and was in the dark about many other.
Regarding their personalities, he could only find fault with Tom's, which left much to be desired. Even the boy's possessiveness over Harry had made him inwardly raise an eyebrow. However, there had also been protectiveness, and thus, he couldn't find fault with Alice Jones' decision of making them believe they were twins.
Indeed, he shuddered to think how a boy like Tom would have turned out if he hadn't had someone as a trusted and constant companion -as Harry seemed to be- in a setting such as the orphanage. Hence, for now, he believed that his decision to protect them from the truth, regarding their lack of relation to each other, had been the right one.
On another note, Albus Dumbledore had many extraordinary magical abilities, many of which he kept a secret. One of them was his uncanny sensitivity and perception of the magic around him and within wizards.
From the start, as soon as he had been in the boys' presence, he had felt it. Tom Riddle's magic was dark by nature. If left unchecked and unguided, the boy would naturally feel akin to and inclined to the Dark Arts, and very possibly delve into them.
It was something, of course, that he couldn't let happen, for the boy's own sake. So many had lost and ruined themselves due to the Dark Arts. And the teachers at Hogwarts had the responsibility of saving their pupils from such fate.
Nonetheless, that Tom Riddle had had at least one parent from a dark magical line was now obvious.
Then, there was Harry, whose magic had felt light, but which had a taint of darkness within it. It was that taint which could make the boy lean towards the Dark Arts. The boy was in danger due to it, just like Tom Riddle.
When Albus had seen the boy's scar, he had suspected it was the cause for it.
The scar had instantly caught his attention – it had looked fresh, as if it had just then been inflicted and as if it would never heal properly. It even looked as it could split open and bleed again at any moment. And the feeling it had given him…
It was for a reason that Albus had attempted to touch it without asking for permission first; not because he wanted to be inconsiderate, but because he had needed to test it.
And then, when his fingers had been but an inch away from the scar, he had felt it most potently – a tendril of dark magic, lashing out. It had been strong, intense, as if it had a mind of its own, and as if it had been reacting to Albus' own powerful light magic, deeming him a threat.
Never had he encountered such a thing.
Oh, there were several dark curses that could have left such a scar, and even left it with a lingering buzz of dark magic – but not that powerful. And certainly not with dark magic that seemed alive.
Moreover, the fact alone that the boy had been cursed was already cause for concern. From what Harry had said, it must have been when the boy had been very young, perhaps even a baby, since the boy couldn't recall how or when he had gotten the scar. And the boy clearly didn't know he had been cursed at all.
Then there was the matter that the boys were parselmouths. One of them alone being such would have startled and puzzled him. The two of them, when he knew they weren't twins… well, it was mystery of such magnitude that Albus felt completely out of his depth.
He wasn't an expert regarding the parselmouth trait, but he had a pretty good notion regarding it, from historical records he had once perused out of sheer curiosity. Nowadays, it was not simply uncommon, it was unique.
The magical ability had originated in some few pureblood lines in India, from which only a couple of descendants remained and none of them with the trait. It was a magical trait that was hard to pass down in a bloodline, usually too weak to manifest itself.
In Europe, the only case of parselmouth ability had been Salazar Slytherin, and his descendants through his bastard son. In that case, for some inexplicable reason which was still undiscovered, the trait had bred true and strong in all descendants.
And yet, by all accounts, the bloodline had died out several centuries ago. Thus was the mystery of how two boys, who were not brothers, could both be parselmouths in such day and age.
It was clear to him that, firstly, the boys could be distantly related to each other. And secondly, that perhaps he would have to look into the only possible origin of their ability – that of the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin; to see, as it was widely disbelieved, if some had survived to present day.
However, even if he added the mystery of Harry's lack of surname in Hogwarts' ledger, to that of the dark magic in the boy's scar and to that of both boys' parselmouth ability, they were still just boys.
They were children who needed to be guided gently, and not unfavorably conditioned and affected by his own wariness. Simply because of what he had discovered about them, as much as it was worrisome, he didn't think ill of them.
It was hardly their fault, and Albus Dumbledore was not a prejudiced wizard, either.
Nevertheless, he was a prudent one.
He would watch them closely during their years at Hogwarts, and be there for them, to guide and help them if solicited and welcomed.
No matter what kind of blood a wizard was born with, in the end, it was a matter of choice whether a wizard turned to the Dark Arts or not. Choice and will could always trump inherited nature.
If he had reason to be concerned about the boys and the choices they made, then he would fully delve into the matter of Harry's scar and the origin of the boys' parselmouth ability.
That decided, with several more things to keep tabs on -just as he kept tabs on many other people, like Maximilian Malfoy, but only acted and interfered if deemed necessary- Albus focused his mind on the Order meeting that would commence in a few minutes.
And with his thoughts thus occupied, as he stood on the muggle street and turned to quickly cast a spell on the orphanage, he didn't notice the eyes that had been observing him.