AN/- Hey please don't kill me for the really late update...seeing life isnt as easy as it supposed to be anyways-I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 57

"Please meet me with Mr. Potter in my office after dinner

~Professor Dumbledore"

That was all the note read as Audrey showed it to Harry while they were eating their dessert, she noticed that tonight once more, her grandfather had not eaten dinner—she was worried about him—he was hardly seen anymore—kept to himself—his eyes rarely sparkled and he never even popped those delicious lemon sweets as often as he used too—something was different about him and Audrey knew it—but she was also sadly informed of the fact that whatever it was—he was not going to tell her. She doubted if her grandmother knew about it either.

When they did reach the office—they knocked on the door silently as an approval gave them permission to enter.

"How is your term going?" asked Albus jovially as one flick of his wand and his desk was completely cleared as the next flick opened up the customary cabinet in which his pensieve was stored, but tonight—the normally empty shelves were lined with vials all over.

"These are some memories I have collected over the years—I would most prefer if you would view them," said Albus pouring a memory into the pensieve.

"These are memories I have collected from over years of search—some are new—others not—they all pertain to one man in particular," said Albus—he did not have to go forward—it was apparent that they should understand.

"Ladies first," said Albus smiling at Audrey as she frowned but she dunked her head into the filled up sink.

A swirling feeling over took her as she landed next to a fat stout man his bowler hat telling them that he was a ministry official. He knocked on a shack that was answered by an elderly shabby looking man. The conversation or aggressive argument was between the ministry official and the old man.

"What do you want?"

"I am from the ministry sir—I am here to talk about your son"

"What—what about Morfin?—do you know who you speakth with?"

"The Gaunts—you must be Morvolo"

"Yesss,"

"Sir, I am here on the orders of the ministry—I must confiscate Mr. Morfin Gaunts wand"

"Why?"

"Because he was caught doing magic in the presence of muggles—also has caused grave harm to Mr. Riddle and his son's property—they seemed very baffled and disgruntled about it—their memories were enhanced but—Mr. Gaunt has broken about 20 rules of underage wizardry—he is only 16,"

"And—true—it—I's got Slytherine blood in me veins—it flows through me—and my bitch sister—see her there—snivelling there—like the rat she is—didn't deserve no good blood this muggle loving scum head!" snarled a 16 year old Morfin as the ministry man bounced on his heel a little.

"You heard him—you ain't getting no wand 'ere"

"But sir,"

"Get out of my house—no place for muggle lovers 'ere—while you're 'ere take her with ya,"

"Sir—I can't express how grave you are turning the situation into,"

"Eh—so what should I have done—let her fall in love with the snickering muggle—Tom Riddle—the filthy muggle bastard!" snarled Morfin.

"Grave-you can bite my head off—you ain't gonna get nowhere—see this ring—it belonged to my ancestor—guess who that was—the very man who gave you 'ny education—how dare to come and try to claim what Morfin did is wrong—she that necklace that undeserving bitch is wearing—that belongs to my ancestor too—you see what I'm talking about,"

A few curses were thrown out wildly as the ministry official held on to his bowler hat and made a run for it—his wand was no use there—they were too quick the father and son—and as the ministry official ran—the scene of the 15yr old girl crying there—the one who did not speak—the weak one amongst the boisterous men—he wished he had whisked her away with him.

The memory then changed into another as the three off them were now standing in a muggle London street—a rather rainy day as the thunder could be heard quite clearly. Out of the crowd on the street they distinctly noticed one man walking down the road in a trench coat and an umbrella over him that hid his maroon coat, blue maroon shirt and black scarf that lay tucked under his beard—his hair was tied up behind his ears as the flicks of unmistakable auburn were mixed with grey. He couldn't have been older than forty as the half moon spectacle over his twinkling blue eyes were a dead giveaway about his identity. That was Albus Dumbledore—man who every wizard knew—a man much older now—the man whose memory Audrey and Harry were present in.

"Come," said the older Dumbledore as he nudged the two teenagers forward as they followed the younger Dumbledore into a building off sorts.

"Mr. Dumbledore?" asked the kind looking woman who greeted the young Dumbledore as he smiled at her politely.

"You must be Mrs. Cole—lovely to meet you," he said shaking her hand as he draped his trench coat on his hand and placed the umbrella in the stand. Mrs. Cole told him to place the coat on the rack as he followed without argument. She asked him to follow her as she spoke in hushed tones.

"I was very surprised to have received your letter Mr. Dumbledore—is it true—will our Tom being going to this school?" asked Mrs. Cole uncertainly.

"Yes, Mrs. Cole—most definitely—if he wishes to," replied Dumbledore nodding as Mrs. Cole smiled.

"You seemed rather surprised," said Dumbledore as Mrs. Cole placed a light hand on his arm.

"Do not mind me saying this Mr. Dumbledore—Tom is an extremely bright boy—but he—he—isn't like the others—he's different," said Mrs. Cole unsure as to how she should put this.

"His mother—Merope gaunt—came to our doorstep—she died after the delivery only to name her son— Tom Morvolo Riddle—said he'd look like his father," she said as she handed him a picture that a dying Merope had given her off the father of her child.

"Although till today—no Tom, Morvolo or Riddle has come looking for the poor boy and he has stayed here—we did try to look—but none of our contacts could figure put this Riddle character," said Mrs. Cole disheartened forgetting of what she had begun in the first place making Dumbledore hand her the photo back and make her recall her precious sentence.

"By different you mean?" asked Dumbledore raising an eyebrow at her. Mrs. Cole pursued her lips at that thought but she spoke hurriedly.

"He's got a place in this school of yours?" asked Mrs. Cole suspiciously.

"Hogwarts—yes," said Dumbledore nodding.

"And nothing I say can change anything?" asked Mrs. Cole as Dumbledore nodded. Mrs. Cole seemed to have believed him because the next thing they knew she was telling him all sorts of things.

"There were several incidents like-Billy's rabbit—I don't know if Tom could have don't it I don't see how—although Billy accused him—but then I don't see how—a rabbit could have hung itself—then there was an incident on the summer trip when we took them to the seaside— Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop went exploring with Tom into that cave—they were never the same after that," said Mrs. Cole worriedly as Dumbledore nodded.

"I suppose you'd like to meet him?" asked Mrs. Cole as Dumbledore nodded politely as reached a hand for the closest door in her reach.

"Tom—dear—this is professor Dumbledore—he had come to meet you—to talk about his school," said Mrs. Cole as she let Dumbledore in as the memory viewers followed him in.

"Hello Tom," smiled Dumbledore to the young boy who had been sitting on a bed covered in grey sheets like his grey shirt and black pant—seemed like a uniform.

"Who are you?" asked Tom—he was a handsome boy—not like the man he looked like now—he had dark brown hair—his blue grey eyes were bright and he looked like a dashing 11 year old—not a sign of his mother in him.

"I'm professor Dumbledore," said the young Dumbledore sitting down in the empty chair next to the wardrobe of the boring looking room.

"Professor—like doctor?—did she tell you too come and take a look at me?" asked Tom malevolently

"No, no," smiled Dumbledore shaking his head.

"Because she wants me looked at—I know it—tell the truth," said Tom disbelievingly

"No—I am a teacher—at Hogwarts—it is a school,"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course — well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you —"

"I'd like to see them try," sneered Riddle.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities —"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's… it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered.

"I can make filings move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said, "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts —"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognizably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant — please, Professor, could you show me —?"

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet; howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

"Open the door," said Dumbledore.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colourless voice, "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic — yes, there is a Ministry — will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle again.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spell books and so on second hand, but —"

"Where do you buy spell books?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything —"

"You're coming with me?" asked Riddle, looking up.

"Certainly, if you —"

"I don't need you," said Riddle. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley — sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Riddle. Then, as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore. "It must've been him. So — when I've got all my stuff — when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips — they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle's face. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other. Then the handshake was broken; Dumbledore was at the door.

"Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

Audrey was thrown head first out of the memory as was Harry as Dumbledore raised his head last.

"I believe that will do for today's class—we shall continue later," smiled Dumbledore. They nodded and walked out of the office together—both slightly shaken but a heedful of events—Dumbledore thought it necessary for them to know of Riddle's past—and they thought so too.

Another week and the month of September came to an end as October was once more brought in by an extensive storm although—thankfully the Gryffindor tryouts were placed distinctly with a sunny sky unlike poor Justin from Hufflepuff who had to ask for an extension.

Audrey dismounted her broom as she noticed several people had gathered at the pitch, she waved over at Hermione who was sitting in the stands reading from her Ancient ruins book, she smiled and waved back at her. The noisy lot suddenly became exceptionally quite as Audrey noticed all their attention on her.

"Right—so—listen up—just cause you were on the team last year—doesn't guarantee you a spot this year too—so I'd like it if you'd—write down what you guys are trying out for—on this—and-," she began as the crowd surrounded her hurriedly as they almost trampled her.

"HEY!—stop acting like a bunch of lunatics!" snarled Audrey as loudly as she could as the crowd glared at her and moved away.

"Thank you," she said sarcastically as she noted down their names one by one and the position they wished to try out for.

The try outs began as it was only two minutes before Harry caught the snitch as Ginny was once again appointed post of chaser while Harry bagged post for seeker—the other chaser in the team was Seamus—he and Audrey seemed to have gotten off well after he apologized last year—but he did not seem very pleased with the fact that Dean had been made beater—after all Seamus had been Ginny's boyfriend till early this summer before she had said she was a little put off by his over-protectiveness, since then the previously known best friends were longer seeing eye to eye after Ginny had snogged Dean on the train. Audrey was well aware of this—but she wasn't going to side with anyone—after all it was between them—personal rivalry should never be counted in a good quidditch game although Audrey knew Dean would never try to kill Seamus by taking advantage of the bludger. The other beater was from the seventh year called Jason Nicolson. In the end—Audrey was thankful for Ron winning over Cormac McLaggen who had been looking her down from the height of the goal posts—although Cormac did not take it too lightly—Audrey mentally reminded herself to thank Hermione for that last minute confundus on McLaggen making him miss Ginny's quaffle from entering the post. Audrey knew that McLaggen could be an asset but she's rather have Ron on her team screwing up then McLaggen trying to seduce her with his eyes. Ugh!

The four friends were enjoying their peaceful Sunday night in front of the crackling fire in the common room as Hermione read was finishing her Charms homework due on next Monday while Audrey read the daily prophet. Ron was sitting ideally popping sweets as Harry once more opened his potions book, shut it and opened it again, carefully reading something from it.

"Have you heard of this spell?—Sectum Sempra?" asked Harry as he showed Audrey the book Hermione raised her head a little sharply.

"No—I haven't," said Audrey shrugging returning to her newspaper—Hermione looked surprised at her and then looked back at Harry. Harry turned to look at Hermione wondering if she had heard of it—she glared at him.

"Neither have I—but if you had an inkling of self respect—than you'd return that book," snapped Hermione as Harry raised his eyebrow at her.

"Not bloody likely—he's top of the class," said Ron looking at Hermione as she was mental.

"Yes—by unfair means!" snapped Hermione at Ron as she glared at him making Ron gulp a little, she turned to Audrey who seemed to be peering into the newspaper her face completely into the paper.

"Audrey!—for merlinsake—tell your boyfriend he is wrong!" hissed Hermione angrily as Audrey jumped a little startled by Hermione's outburst.

"What?" she said shrugging as Harry chuckled a little as Audrey smiled at her, as Hermione shook her head and turned to Harry.

"I'd like to see who this book belongs to!" she said placing her hand in front of Harry as Harry got up and moved away from her towards Audrey as Neville and Ginny who were sitting at the table playing wizards chess looked at them.

"Come on Harry!" snapped Hermione.

"No! The binding is fragile!" he said unsettlingly.

"The binding is fragile—really Harry—that is the lamest excuse ever!" she said shaking her head as before he knew a hand wrapped around his and snatched the book away. He turned around to see Audrey giggling and chucking the book at Hermione. He glared at her as she chuckled loudly; his hand went around her shoulders pulling her close as he rubbed his hand into her head.

"Traitor!" he smirked as she laughed trying to push him off.

"Get a room!" commented Ginny laughing as Harry let go of Audrey instantly, both blushing equally.

"Half blood prince?—who is the half blood prince?" stated Hermione curiously.

"Don't know—don't care—just that the bloke was bloody smart," said Harry shrugging as Hermione shook her head.

"Whatever—look I'm going to go to bed now," said Harry faking a stretch and a yawn as he snatched the book away from her.

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