Rating: T

Warnings: None

Relationships: None

Note: So this entire chapter was supposed to be a 3000-word scene constituting about 60% of a single chapter. And then 4000 extra words happened. (Maybe I'm a bit long-winded?) So again, I'll be splitting it into two parts. Keep in mind while reading it that this was originally a single scene, so there was really no good place to stop like there was last time, when the split was between two different scenes.

Chapter 2: Eos

Part I

When a visitor came to the orphanage on the seventh of July to see a Tom Marvolo Riddle, Tom was out.

Of course, the rule still applied - until he was at least thirteen years old, he couldn't go out without a chaperone. But there was no longer any need to keep up his previous rule-abiding facade. After all, he had reverted to being the demon child of his youth. So he just walked out the front door bright and early at five in the morning, and no one had been the wiser until six hours later, when the visitor had arrived, asking for him.

He hadn't even been up to anything particularly demonic at all, unless wood carving in the forest was considered demonic.

Admittedly, he had been doing it with magic - deliberate magic - but no one ever went into the forest near the orphanage, and so no one would ever see the intricate flame-like designs on the trunks of the trees.

He returned just before lunchtime, since he hadn't expected Dumbledore to arrive until the afternoon as he had last time. To his surprise, the moment he arrived, the matron snagged his arm and dragged him toward her office.

"You know you're not supposed to run off like that," she muttered into his ear. He could smell the whiskey on her breath. "You keep doing that and you'll be going to sleep starving soon." They arrived at the door, which had been left slightly ajar. "Play nice," she warned him, digging her sharp nails into his arm. "And we might just be able to get rid of you, at least for the school year."

She released his arm and pushed the door open, pulling an unnaturally stretched grin across her face. In Tom's opinion, it just made her look like a harpy. A slightly tipsy harpy who was more likely to trip over perfectly even ground than anything to do anything harpy-like, but a harpy nevertheless.

Behind the door was a young woman with an odd mix of English and Asian features, sitting in an uncomfortable-looking comfy chair with too much stuffing. She was wearing what looked to be robes, ones which resembled those of the two men in the marketplace last year. The most noticeable things about them were the high-quality material in a smooth burgundy and the silver embroidery around the edges.

"Hello, Tom," she said, rising. She held out a hand, which Tom took, careful that his grip was neither too firm nor too weak. Her hands were freezing, and there was a thin but expensive-looking band on her left ring finger. It didn't look like a wedding ring to Tom, but he didn't have the chance to examine it before she pulled her hand away. "I'm Professor Cross, and I'll be taking you out to do your shopping today." She stole a glance at the matron, who was blissfully planning a day without Tom. "I teach calculus at Hogwarts."

Calculus? They learned calculus in magic school? Although Tom supposed it made sense; perhaps higher mathematics were required to understand magical theory.

Or, considering her look at the matron, she actually taught the magical equivalent of calculus.

The matron's stomach took that moment to grumble loudly. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "It's nearly lunch time - I must be going, I'm really very hungry - "

Cross gave the matron an undisguised, disgusted look.

"What about lunch for me, sir? Er - ma'am. I usually eat at noon," Tom said, trying not to feel awkward about his slip.

There was an odd look on Cross' face. "Sir is fine. We can eat in the shopping center, if that's all right with you?"

"That's fine, of course," the matron interrupted. "Getting out of this place will probably do him some good." And though Tom didn't disagree with her, he felt tempted to point out that he'd just been out. "Just have him back by 8:30."

"No, it won't take more than two hours." The expression on Cross' face had moved beyond disgust, which confused Tom; the matron was a repugnant woman, but there were worse things. Then, remembering the professor's expensive dress and ring, he wondered if maybe she had been born into wealth, and if she was simply revolted by the smell of cheap alcohol and the yellow of the matron's teeth.

"Oh, of course. Now, you must be going." The matron opened the door, shooing them out. "Have fun, Tom."

Cross was already out the door in a few long strides, and kept walking straight out of the orphanage without even waiting for Tom. Tom, not wanting to be left behind, quickly followed her. Before he made it out the door, he heard the matron yell, "And you're welcome to take as long as you want!"

Tom was far enough behind Cross that he knew that she wouldn't hear his quiet snort.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the professor asked.

Tom hastened after her. They went down through the center of the town, passed the little rows of houses beyond, and finally came out into the large, open fields of the farms and surrounding wilderness. He breathed in the clear country air and watched the serene path of the clouds overhead. It was something he rarely had the chance to appreciate, since any "free time" he had was spent improving his mind or his magic rather than cloud-watching.

After what must have been at least thirty minutes, Tom began to slow, wondering where they were walking. This shopping center couldn't be close enough to walk to, could it? Although he supposed it wasn't entirely impossible that an entire wizarding shopping center was tucked neatly away in the open fields not two miles from where he lived, he didn't think it was exactly probable either. Cross was still a few feet ahead of him, not having slowed down once since they'd left the orphanage.

"Where are we going, Professor, if you don't mind me asking?" He jogged up to her and tried to match her pace.

"There's actually someone else we're picking up. Same year as you, lives on a farm. Since the two of you live fairly close together - " Tom suppressed a snort of incredulity, because this was not "fairly close" by any stretch of the phrase - "Headmaster Dippet asked me to get both of you. It's only a few more minutes, now. A short walk is always good for your health."

As it turned out, "a few more minutes" meant "another half hour" in Cross' book. And a "short walk" added up to a total of a good four miles. By the time the quaint, sprawling white house came into view, his throat was parched and his legs aching. He wasn't use to any kind of physical exertion; the furthest he ever walked was out to the bookshop, which couldn't have been more than a quarter of a mile away.

It took all his willpower not to set himself down on the porch the moment he reached it. Cross, unfairly, looked as unruffled as she did before. Didn't she say she taught math?, Tom thought as he tried to catch his breath while looking like he wasn't trying to catch his breath. It was incredibly difficult. If wizarding math involved this amount of physical exercise, Tom wasn't sure that he wanted anything to do with it.

Now, this would've been so much easier if he had been, say, a bird. A bird that could drift along on the wind for all four grueling miles...

The loud clanging of the doorbell nearly made Tom jump in surprise. Dammit, Tom, pay attention, he imagined his inner voice saying. It sounded oddly like himself.

The door, a surprisingly clean white, swung open, revealing a blonde woman wearing a very nice pale blue dress and an apron.

"I'm Professor Cross from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I believe my colleague Horace Slughorn visited your child on her birthday to explain..."

"Oh, yes!" The woman wiped her hands on her apron even though they didn't seem to be dirty at all, then extended it towards her. "I'm Janie Warren, Myrtle's mother. Please come in; she'll be right down. She's been looking forward to this for a very long time, you know."

Cross gave a perfunctory nod and stepped in. After a moment, Tom deemed his legs functional again and followed her.

The inside of the house was as neat and clean as Mrs. Warren was. It wasn't empty and desolate like Tom's room in the orphanage was, and neither did it have the clutter that he saw in the other orphan's rooms. The Warrens were obviously a very loving and tight-knit family, if the many family photos were any indication. There seemed to be one for every Christmas, including ones when the girl - Myrtle - was only an infant. Some of the older photos showed only Mr. and Mrs. Warren in their early twenties. Interspersed throughout the house were fanciful drawings done up in a young child's hand, as well as more skillful sketches in pencil.

They were led to the living room, which offered even more insights into the Warrens' lives: a pair of glasses lying forgotten on the coffee table, a cricket bat leaning on the wall, a lump of rosin next to one of the potted plants.

The couch, which Tom and Cross sat on, was old but thankfully not in disrepair. It creaked softly in protest under their weight.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Mrs. Warren asked as she headed for the kitchen.

"No, thank you. We're only here to pick up your daughter."

"She'll be a few more minutes. She was so excited last night that she couldn't sleep, and when she finally did, she kept right on sleeping through her alarm." Mrs. Warren reentered the living room. "Are you sure you wouldn't like anything?"

"It's fine."

Mrs. Warren sat down on the couch and studied Tom.

"Are you a student as well?"

Tom put on his most charming smile. He feared it would come out as a grimace and hoped that his naturally angelic face would alleviate the worst of it. "Yes, I'm just starting. I only found out about the magical world about half a year ago, on my birthday, too - I think it's all very exciting."

Cross' look, if Tom was correct, said exactly what she thought he was full of. And Tom was usually correct. This didn't bode well.

Tom forced himself to keep smiling at Mrs. Warren, though he didn't feel the joy it suggested. Having Dumbledore wary of him was enough; he didn't need someone else on his case. He knew from experience that once adults had it in their heads that he was trouble, they would start blaming everything on him. Apparently, he would have to act more polite, more courteous. It was, of course, possible that Dumbledore had warned Cross about his behavior before she came to meet him; but that would be even worse, since it meant that Dumbledore had no compunctions about coloring other teacher's opinions of him.

If he was kept on a short leash, he wouldn't be able to read and learn about everything he wanted to, since he planned on learning some things that common sense told him were probably illegal.

"Well, we think it's very exciting too. Harold - my husband - he'd be here, too, but his mother got sick and she lives by herself nowadays, so he's gone down to bring her some soup..."

Mrs. Warren prattled on and on about the most trivial things. She didn't seem to mind carrying the conversation by herself, nor did she notice that she it was more a monologue than a dialogue. Tom found himself wondering just how tardy this Myrtle girl could possibly make them, and he imagined every rustle and thump he heard coming from down the hall to be the girl tripping and falling and dying from blunt force trauma. But no; that would just mean that they had to postpone the shopping trip until some other day when there wasn't a dead girl to take care of.

Or, considering the irritated expression that the professor had adopted, maybe she'd just write it off as a fortunate case of natural selection and take Tom to do his shopping anyway.

When Mrs. Warren looked set to pull out Myrtle's baby photos and maybe welcome both Tom and Cross as honorary family members, the girl herself finally showed. She was a mess of untamed brown hair, sloppy clothing, and awkwardly large glasses.

"Right," Cross said, standing. "We haven't much time - I'm afraid I arrived a bit behind schedule - " That was an obvious lie, but Tom supposed that she couldn't very well say that Myrtle was an inconsiderate mess who couldn't be on time if she tried - "So we have to leave right away."

"Oh! Myrtle - your cookies - " Mrs. Warren rushed off to the kitchen. Cross looked ready to leave without Myrtle, manners be damned. Thankfully, Mrs. Warren returned before Cross said anything, handing a little tin box to Myrtle. "Have fun, now!" She sounded sincere, unlike the matron.

"Take my hand. We'll be traveling by apparition - basically teleportation." She extended a hand to each of them. Tom, to his disappointment, got her right hand, which was unadorned by jewelry. "Hold on now - this might be a bit uncomfortable - "

Cross was prone to understatement. It was more than just a bit uncomfortable; in fact, it was more than just plain uncomfortable. It felt like he was traveling very quickly and very slowly at once. Or, more accurately, like he was trying to travel very quickly but was being stopped by the very stubborn rubber tube he was inside of. If this is what apparition feels like, I don't think I want to learn it, he thought. Just when he thought he might run out of breath for the second time that day, they popped out in a busy street in downtown London. None of the people around them seemed to have noticed three people step out of the middle of nowhere.

Neither did they seem to notice or care that one of those people was determinedly hacking up a lung.

"This way, Tom, Myrtle." Cross held open the door to a seedy little pub in front of them. Tom took one look at Myrtle, who hadn't even bothered to cover her mouth as she coughed, and decided that he'd rather be inside than outside, even if "inside" happened to be smoky and loud and stinking of cigarette smoke.

The place was dark and crowded, but overall it was much cleaner than Tom had expected. The clientele ranged from a large redheaded family of eight crowded around the hearth to a lone, cloaked figure leaning over his cup, which was stirring itself. Tom stared a bit, trying to take it all in. There was no waitress - cups and plates floated to and fro on their own volition, dirty ones neatly washing themselves in the sink. There was a loud crash as the youngest of the redheaded family knocked a glass off the table, and Tom waited for a mop to come flying along, but with a wave of the wand, the mother not only repaired the glass and set it neatly in front of her but also vanished the drink which was seeping through the floorboards.

"Welcome to the wizarding world," Cross said dryly from behind him.

It was then that he noticed Myrtle standing next to him in a similar state of awe. He found that he wasn't sorry for his moment of inattention; the scene in front of him was astonishing enough that he thought he deserved it.

Nevertheless, he tore his eyes away and looked back at Cross. "Are we having lunch here?"

"Merlin, no." She shook Myrtle's arm to get her attention, then led them into a smaller room in the back of the pub.

The din faded, more so than it really should have. If Tom looked carefully, he could see a faint shimmer on the edges of the doorway - a spell of some sort, he would guess, that muted sound. The wall across from the doorway was made of solid brick.

"Now, watch carefully."

She pulled out a stick of wood - a wand, Tom thought - and tapped it against the bricks in a careful pattern which Tom took care to memorize. When she was done, the bricks began to pull away, as if they were curtains sweeping aside to reveal the performer.

And what a performer it was. If the magical pub behind them had been astonishing, the street behind it beyond words. Here, displays vied for attention, flashing in various colors and and drawing customers in with its ostentation. It reminded Tom of the market he'd visited with the orphanage last year; but there, the goods had been mostly mundane, pretty but nothing out of the ordinary. It was not his nature to be drawn in by tacky sales tricks, but now, Tom wasn't even sure what he wanted to look at first. He knew that he was in danger of dropping his jaw as Myrtle had done beside him, but again, he couldn't help it.

"Didn't you gawk enough before?" Cross asked, pushing past them. "Come on, I said we wouldn't be more than two hours."

The first place they went was the bank, which was run by goblins, where Myrtle exchanged the money she had brought with her for shiny little coins called galleons and sickles. Cross explained that Gringotts was the main wizarding bank in England and run mainly by goblins. "They'll take every advantage they can with you, so you have to watch out for them. Always look for the fine print. That being said, if you respect them, they'll respect you, and as long as you don't do anything to ruin that respect, they're very trustworthy."

There was a line, but each transaction was very quick, since goblins didn't bother with social niceties like hellos and how are yous. Tom found himself very glad for it, since he'd never liked them himself.

When they were done, they stepped back outside onto the busy street, and Cross asked, "Did either of you bring your supply lists with you?"

"Oh, no..." Myrtle was patting herself all over, but her dress had no pockets, and all that her little purse contained were coins. "I must have forgotten it."

"I've got one," Tom offered. It was in his pants pocket, folded up neatly into a rectangle.

"Well, since you're the one who's got it, you get to pick first. Where do you want to go?"

The supply list was quite long. He needed a few sets of robes and other wardrobe items, a small library of books, cauldrons, potions ingredients, astronomical instruments, quills, ink... But it was one item that caught his eye.

"I think I'd like to get a wand first," he said. "If that's not too much trouble."

Cross smirked. "That's what I thought - that's the one most students go for first."

It made sense, of course. To children who had never before seen magic, real magic, this entire world would be a novelty. And there was one item which everyone in this world had, and by most people's logic, the possession of said item would be an automatic pass into the world.

That item would, of course, be a wand.

Notes:

1. I'm stupid and I forgot that Wool's Orphanage is, in fact, in London. (Now Dante's chapter makes so much more sense.) So that the story makes sense, I have added a few paragraphs to the beginning of Chapter 1, Part I, and altered a few sentences in the rest of the chapter. None of the events have changed.

If you don't want to go back to read it, the new story is that Tom was originally dropped off in an orphanage in the small town he is now in by Merope, but was kicked out/transferred to one in London at the age of about five (before the start of this story in the Prelude). The one he returns to now is the original orphanage.

I apologize for screwing up canon.