Today was the day. Tom just felt it swirling inside of him as he awoke suddenly one hot day of the long summer. He was sweating profusely. It was one of those things that his magic sometimes instinctually informed him about but this time he felt it through a gnawing anticipation in his stomach.
The doorbell downstairs rang. "Tom, there's someone here that wants to meet you!" That was his 'mother' calling again.
He shuffled slowly down the stairs as he sought to keep his breathing under control. First impressions after all made all the difference for most people.
"Mrs. Riddle, I presume," he heard an aged but powerful voice emanating from the living room. Tom froze with his hand on the handle. He could somehow sense something just from that voice alone.
He turned the handle and strode into the room and worked a slightly puzzled, but curious expression and first laid eyes on the old man with a long silvery beard. He was dressed in a sort of flashy, but still run-down way that looked out of this century with his plum velvet suit that was fringed with yellow stars. He sported a broken nose that Tom wondered why he never used his magic to fix
His appearance on the whole seemed at first glance to be the kind of wannabe wizard that muggles liked to pretend at in fancy costume parties. But although his senses went one way, his mind corrected for it.
That was a most intentional and ingenious disguise because his mind froze and screamed that he was almost certainly a really powerful wizard even though he tried not to dress the part by overdressing the part. All this called for caution and Tom duly obeyed.
"Hello, sir, mister…" He tried to look a bit stunned at the man's flamboyant clothes which he felt was what was expected of him even though he felt nothing but cold wariness at what he felt was an intended deception.
"My name is Professor Dumbledore, young Tom," the professor smiled genially and shook his hand. "I must say, I was most astonished when I first saw your name appear all of a sudden some five years ago in the Book of Acceptance…"
The man did not act like he thought Tom knew nothing about the wizarding world. Quite the contrary.
"You see, we have but a single entry of any wizard or witch by that surname," Dumbledore said turning to Tom's parents in apparent bemusement although his crystal blue eyes showed little merriment. "And no record of any offspring whatsoever."
"Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, I presume."
"Oh no," his father replied quickly, "Tom was adopted, about five years ago like you said." Tom could not help but note he looked a bit relieved to be making that clear to Dumbledore.
"How strange these coincidences run," Dumbledore stroked his beard in what Tom thought was a mocking way because he certainly did not feel that he was puzzled at all, "that a muggle-born orphan should share the exact same name as that" -and there was a long pause- "particular wizard…"
"In any case," he continued onwards, "Tom has been accepted into Hogwarts according to all the rules of the Book and Quill of Acceptance and I am indeed its headmaster." He turned to Tom again but Tom noted Dumbledore would not look him in the eye at all and he felt an inexplicable wariness in turn to reciprocate.
"He will need school supplies from Diagon Alley and I am happy to accompany you all."
It was interesting, Tom thought as they made the journey through perfectly non-magical means that the headmaster should have come personally for him for some reason and absolutely insisted on escorting them. He had clearly done some research on Tom's past what with his perfect knowledge of what Tom knew and didn't know about the magical world. Why was the headmaster so interested in him and his childhood in particular?
Unbidden, Tom thought back to his past and it soon struck him that Dumbledore probably suspected that he was born in another time. But even so, magic could probably allow quite improbable things to happen after all, but why was his case so interesting to him?
Tom made a mental note as they strode into a dark and shabby pub that he would try to contact whomever and however Tom Riddle had ended up in this time, as he seemed to exist as Dumbledore had hinted. It might be interesting but whomever he was, he was pushing sixty five at this point. He was quite literally an old man.
When they burst into Diagon Alley moments later, Tom wanted to simply explode in joy and walk at a snail's pace but he followed Dumbledore's brisk walk and maintained a relatively closely guarded expression at all the wondrous new sights and sounds introduced to him and ignored the gobsmacked expressions of his 'parents'.
They entered Gringotts Wizarding Bank in a hurry and passed rows of (quite ugly Tom thought) working goblins with golden scales and weights who looked down upon them past their long, pointed noses and wrinkled faces sitting at their high desks. There was carved marble that flickered faintly in a thousand tones from the light of a hundred chandeliers and lamps. Tom stood back as he allowed his 'father' to open an account for him and merely observed the transaction that was taking place aided occasionally by Dumbledore.
After an unpleasant, gut-wrenching cart ride, Tom couldn't help but scorn the inefficiency of the banking system that still employed physical vaults for all deposits and withdrawals, before they were back in the street blinking in the sunlight.
"Umm…," Mr. Smith said clearly not at ease with the situation. "So where do we want to go first…"
"I would suggest that acquiring a wand should take precedence. After all, it is the wand that takes the measure of a wizard…"
Tom quickly agreed with the old professor. However curious he felt about the other shops, he knew that in the wizarding world wands were synonymous with power. You simply couldn't be a respectable wizard without one. Nobody would take you seriously either as nearly all forms of magic seemed to be performed using wands.
Outside of Ollivander's, as they prepared to enter the wand-maker's shop with Tom in eager anticipation, the door suddenly flew open first and Tom bumped into… Hermione.
"Oof," he replied as he crashed into her.
"Tom! Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and…" Hermione broke off breathlessly as she realised abruptly she didn't know the name of their companion.
"I am Professor Dumbledore, here to escort Tom and his guardians on their first day out in the wizarding world, of course."
"Professor Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts," a sharp witch wearing a pointed hat and spectacles similar to Dumbledore, said in return as if shocked the headmaster had omitted his role at the school when introducing himself to a new student. But Hermione already knew this of course as she broke into a nervously excited babble.
"We are next door neighbours," Mr. Granger informed the professors as they shook hands.
"What a happy coincidence," Dumbledore replied as he stroked his beard. "Certainly considering how rare muggle-borns are, it's as if two were born in the same family!"
"I'm not a muggle-born," Tom said clearing his throat and speaking at last. "I mean…" and he tried to project some hesitancy into his voice. "I remember my mother and she was definitely a witch."
His 'parents' just gaped at him as he had never told them anything about his real mother before.
The Grangers just smiled awkwardly in return while Tom did not miss the meaningful glance that the deputy headmistress gave the headmaster. Dumbledore merely nodded amiably in return and his eyes continued to twinkle merrily as he beheld the Grangers.
"Did you get your wand then?" Tom couldn't help but ask Hermione. "May I see it?"
She pulled it out from her new school robes that she was already wearing.
"It's vine wood, 10 and 3/4 inches with a dragon heartstring core," she said.
Tom made a sudden motion as if he wanted to take the wand to examine and expected her to offer it to him freely before he instinctively realised the probable breach in wizarding decorum and quickly withdrew his gestured hand.
"Well, I'm afraid we mustn't dawdle for too long. We've only begun the day after all-"
As he entered Ollivander's shop, which was a lot humbler inside than what its exterior suggested, he could sense all the magic sitting quietly on the shelves in stacks. Each one was like a unique personality awaiting a witch or wizard with the potential for greatness. He almost shuddered in excitement as he relished the chance to try to find his match.
Ollivander stumbled out of the back of his shop, took one glance at Tom as the colour drained from his face instantly and he immediately retreated again and Tom could hear the clanging of the back door being opened and closed.
"If you will pardon me," Dumbledore said tipping his hat at them apologetically, as he strode after the wand-maker leaving them standing alone in the shop.
When Ollivander returned with Dumbledore in tow, he spoke in a strangely breathy, shrill voice. He would not look at them. He told Tom to give the wands on the shelves a wave but made no attempt to help him with any and moved out of his way. Tom found it most odd behaviour but he put it at the eccentricity of a dedicated craftsman as he began pulling out thin boxes which contained wands.
He waved one the first time and produced a shower of multi-coloured sparks that startled his "parents". But he had no way of knowing whether that constituted a match. Ollivander evaded his questioning with a bunch of equivocal answers.
"Perhaps it is, but perhaps one might find a better match elsewhere that is better to one's liking…"
Tom had the strong impression that Ollivander didn't want him inside his shop but was somehow only forced to tolerate his presence by Dumbledore even as he continued to try out wands. Most of the wands he tried he was able to easily produce beautiful sparks and small fireworks. But if that meant nothing, Tom didn't really know what he was looking for.
As the minutes crept by and he tried more wands, Tom felt no difference. He was able to gradually better control any magical output and vary the reactions of the wands by willing different combinations. But all of them reacted to him similarly no matter how different they felt to his magic and very few rejected him outright.
"This is pointless," he muttered as Ollivander closed his eyes and actually trembled in discomfort and inexplicable fear. Tom placed down the last wand that he had tried and simply walked out of Ollivander's without having found any particular match. He certainly didn't want to buy anything if he was unsure about the product with such an uncooperative salesman. As far as omens went, it wasn't exactly a positive introduction to the wizarding world.