"Opportunities multiply as they are seized."
Sun Tzu
III
As dawn fought its way through the dense layers of cold fog, the streets of London emerged like forgotten relics from a bygone era. This particular part of the city held buildings that were once grand and majestic, but now they stood as weathered sentinels, their worn facades bearing the marks of time and the echoes of destruction.
The cracked windows stared out like vacant eyes, their glass long shattered, revealing only a skeletal frame that bore witness to the scars of war. Dilapidated rooftops sagged under the weight of years gone by, as if burdened by the memories that lingered within their walls.
Through the mist, the faint sound of distant footsteps echoed. Their rhythm was muffled and distant, like whispers carried on the wind. A solitary figure emerged, shrouded in a heavy coat, their breath visible in the frigid air. They moved with a quiet determination, each step cautious and deliberate, as if navigating a labyrinth of memories and forgotten dreams.
In the gentle glow of the morning sun, Professor Albus Dumbledore arrived at the gates of the Wool's Orphanage. His presence cast a shadow of uncertainty upon the tranquil surroundings. The air carried a crisp and cool breeze that rustled the leaves of the towering trees lining the pathway.
Albus rapped on the sturdy wooden door of the orphanage, patiently awaiting a response. His piercing blue eyes surveyed the surroundings with a deep curiosity, noticing a weathered sign that proudly declared the establishment as "Wool's Orphanage." Thoughts of the children within filled his mind - how many of them possessed the extraordinary potential for magic, and how many were sadly subjected to the cruelty and ignorance of the non-magical world.
The door groaned open, revealing a stern-faced woman garbed in a dark gray dress and a crisp white apron. Her expression held a mixture of suspicion and annoyance, as though Dumbledore were an unwelcome intruder.
"Can I assist you?" she inquired with a clipped tone.
"Good morning, madam. My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, and I have come to visit two of your children - Hermione Granger and Tom Riddle," he politely introduced himself, offering a warm smile.
The woman's countenance shifted to one of fear and disgust. She clutched the door handle tightly, as if to bar Dumbledore from entering.
"Those two? They are the devil's spawn, they are. Trust me, you don't want to see them. They're better off locked away in the attic, where they can't cause any harm," she declared, shaking her head.
The professor furrowed his brow, sensing the woman's hostility. He resolved to employ gentle persuasion rather than forcing his way inside.
"Please, madam. I assure you, I mean no harm. I am a professor at a magical institution, and I have come to offer them a place at my school," he reassured her, his voice calm and soothing.
Mrs Cole regarded him with incredulity, as though he had just uttered the most absurd notion imaginable.
"A school of magic? What on earth are you talking about? Magic doesn't exist. Those two are nothing but freaks, capable of doing unnatural things. They're dangerous, and they should be locked away from society," she exclaimed, her voice growing increasingly agitated.
Dumbledore let out a sigh, realizing that the muggle woman before him was stubborn and ignorant, unwilling to listen to reason. Deciding to take a more direct approach, he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his wand. With a pointed gesture towards the door handle, he muttered a word under his breath. To his relief, the handle briefly glowed before coming loose, leaving the door unlocked.
The matron gasped, her eyes widening with terror as she backed away from the door. Trembling, she questioned, "What did you do? How did you do that?"
Apologizing with a smile, the professor stepped inside the orphanage. "I'm sorry, madam, but there is no time for explanations. I must see the children, and I must see them now. Please, lead me to them," he stated firmly and authoritatively.
Too scared to argue, Mrs Cole nodded and obediently guided the wizard through the dark and gloomy corridors of the orphanage. They passed closed and locked doors, behind which faint cries and moans could be heard. Dumbledore couldn't help but feel a surge of pity for the children residing here.
Eventually, they reached the end of the corridor, where a narrow staircase led to the attic. The woman pointed towards the staircase and warned in a hushed tone, "They are up there. But be careful, they are not like normal children. They can do things, terrible things. They can hurt you, if they want to."
Acknowledging her warning, he thanked her and began ascending the staircase. Anticipation and curiosity filled him as he wondered about the nature of Hermione Granger and Tom Riddle, and the kind of magic they possessed. Reaching the top of the staircase, he noticed a slightly ajar door. Pushing it open, he entered the attic.
The room was a cramped and dusty space, adorned with cobwebs. Only a small window provided a hint of sunlight. The floor was strewn with old and tattered books, newspapers, magazines, and various other items. In one corner, near the window, two children sat on the floor, engrossed in their reading. As the Deputy Headmaster entered, they looked up, their eyes widening with surprise and caution.
Both children appeared to be around eleven years old, with pale and gaunt faces. Their ragged and dirty clothes barely covered their thin frames, suggesting a lack of proper nourishment and sleep. Despite their worn appearance, they exuded an aura of intelligence and pride that set them apart from the other kids. Dumbledore also noticed something else, something he recognized immediately - they possessed magic.
He approached the two slowly, wearing a friendly smile to avoid startling them. He spoke in a gentle and welcoming tone.
"Hello, children. I'm Professor Albus Dumbledore, a teacher at Hogwarts, a magical institute. I've come here to offer you a place at my school," he said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm.
The kids looked at him with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. After exchanging a glance, the boy stepped forward, positioning himself protectively in front of the girl. He spoke in a cold yet confident voice, contrasting with his frail appearance.
"We don't believe you. Are you trying to trick us? What do you want from us?" he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Dumbledore shook his head and reassured them, "I'm telling you the truth. You may have noticed that you can unintentionally make things happen. You have the ability to move, break, or change things with just a thought. It's because you possess magic. And I can prove it to you." He took out his wand once again.
Pointing his wand at an old and cramped cabinet near the door, Dumbledore uttered a word, causing the cabinet to burst into flames. Sparks and smoke filled the air as the books inside flew out, some still burning. While the cabinet burned, Dumbledore made a cryptic remark about stealing being forbidden at Hogwarts. He then handed two letters of acceptance to the children.
"These letters contain all the information about Hogwarts and the things you'll need to acquire. They invite you to join the school and learn to use your magic properly," he explained, extending the letters to them.
The two took the letters and eagerly opened them. As they read the contents, their eyes widened with wonder and excitement. They turned to each other, then back to the man.
Hermione, her eyes shining with hope, spoke up. "Do you mean we can go to Hogwarts for free?"
Dumbledore nodded, his voice filled with reassurance. "Indeed, Miss Granger. Your circumstances will not hinder you from receiving a magical education."
Tom's skepticism began to waver, and he exchanged a glance with Hermione. "What's the catch?" he asked cautiously.
The Deputy Headmaster's smile widened. "No catch, Mr Riddle. Hogwarts believes in nurturing potential, regardless of one's background. The only requirement is your dedication to learning and embracing the magic within you."
Hermione's excitement grew, and she clutched the letter tightly. "This is a chance we cannot miss, Tom. We can escape this orphanage and have a real future."
Riddle's gaze softened as he looked at her. "You're right. We deserve a better life than this."
Without hesitation, Dumbledore led the two orphans, through several narrow streets until they reached The Leaky Cauldron. The building, with its ancient stone walls and thatched roof, exuded a sense of charm and mystery.
Approaching the pub, the lively sounds of laughter and animated conversation spilled out onto the cobblestones. They intermingled with the occasional clinking of glasses and the joyful melodies of a wizarding band. The warm glow of lanterns spilled through the windows, casting an inviting light upon the worn wooden door, which emitted a gentle creak, as if beckoning all who passed by to enter.
Dumbledore explained, his eyes twinkling with knowledge, "This pub and inn are frequented by wizards and witches, right in the heart of muggle London."
Curiosity sparked in Hermione's eyes as she asked, "What's a muggle?" Albus replied with a wise smile, "Muggles are non-magical people, my dear. They live their lives completely unaware of the magic that surrounds them."
As they stepped inside, the air transformed into a symphony of enticing scents that tickled their senses. The rich aroma of butterbeer wafted through the room, mingling with the earthy notes of oak-aged mead. The comforting fragrances of hearty stews and freshly baked bread added to the mouthwatering medley. The low hum of conversation filled every nook, blending harmoniously with the melodies emanating from magical instruments, infusing the room with an invigorating energy.
Engaging in conversation with the bartender, Dumbledore tapped a peculiar brick wall in the back. Suddenly, a hidden passage appeared before their eyes. With a mischievous smile, he announced, "Welcome to Diagon Alley!"
Crossing through the archway, a sense of wonder washed over them like a tidal wave. The narrow cobblestone street stretched out before their eyes, adorned with a kaleidoscope of enchanting shops that seemed to defy the very laws of physics. Diagon Alley, concealed from the bustling streets of London, stood as a magical thoroughfare, pulsating as the vibrant heart of the wizarding world.
Hermione couldn't contain her astonishment and gasped, her eyes widening with delight. "I can't believe this place!" The towering vaults of Gringotts, the goblin-run bank, and the bustling stalls of the magical apothecary captivated her attention. In Diagon Alley, every need and desire of the wizarding community was catered to, with an astonishing array of goods on display. Quills and parchment, cauldrons and robes, broomsticks and wands — the sheer variety showcased the vastness and complexity of the magical world.
Tom's excitement matched Hermione's as he chimed in, his voice filled with wonder. "It's like our world, but turned upside down!" The bookstore they entered seemed to defy the very laws of space, appearing much larger on the inside than its modest exterior suggested. "You could easily get lost in here!" he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of exploration.
Ever observant, Riddle pointed out another intriguing aspect of Diagon Alley. "Just look at how everyone's dressed! It's like we've stepped into another era," he marveled. Women gracefully glided by in flowing Victorian robes, while men sported cloaks that seemed to belong to a time long past.
Staring at a peculiar carriage, Hermione turned to Tom, his curiosity piqued. "What on earth are those? They look like winged horses crossed with skeletons!" He furrowed his brow, equally puzzled and fascinated by the mysterious creatures that seemed to defy logic.
As they explored the many shops, Dumbledore reminded them to stay close. The air crackled with an undeniable undercurrent of magic, as if the very essence of the wizarding world permeated every nook and cranny of Diagon Alley.
Tom, his apprehension evident, voiced his worry to Dumbledore. "Sir, I can't help but feel uneasy about the expenses of all this," he confided. Hermione nodded in agreement, mirroring his sentiments. "Yes, Professor. What should we do?"
Albus smiled warmly, assuaging their fears with his reassuring words. "Fear not, kids. Your bursary will cover most of your needs here in Diagon Alley," he assured them, instilling a sense of relief and confidence in their hearts.
Just as they were engrossed in their search, a boy and his father unexpectedly crossed their path. The boy, about their age, had hair so blond it was almost white, resembling his father's. Tom, always quick with a joke, couldn't resist a playful remark, "Hey, mate, you're not an albino, are you?" he quipped, a mischievous grin on his face.
However, to their surprise, the boy overheard Tom's comment and his expression turned sour. He approached them, his tone laced with prejudice and contempt, "Filthy and poor, aren't you? I bet you're mudbloods, judging by the way you're dressed." His words were like a slap in the face, a reminder of the deep-rooted biases that still lingered in the magical world.
Albus Dumbledore, deeply engaged in conversation with the boy's father, Septimus Malfoy, keenly detected the mounting tension and swiftly intervened. His voice remained steady, yet firm as he addressed the father, "Septimus, it appears our perspectives on treating others differ greatly." The tall man, his face contorted with disdain, waved his hand dismissively and sneered, "Do as I say, Abraxas! We mustn't waste our precious time with such scum."
Disappointment etched on his face, Dumbledore turned to Hermione and Tom, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and resolve. "Come, let's move away from here," he said, gesturing for them to follow. Hermione, her curiosity piqued, couldn't help but ask, "Sir, what did he mean by 'mudblood'?" Her voice carried a mix of confusion and concern.
Albus sighed, pausing for a moment before responding, "Miss Granger, 'mudblood' is a derogatory term used by some wizards and witches to belittle those with non-magical parents. It's a form of blood prejudice that unfortunately still exists in our magical society."
Tom, listening intently, felt a fire ignite within him. He was no stranger to prejudice, having faced it throughout his life, and he was determined to challenge these misconceptions. With a determined glint in his eye, he spoke up, "Well, I say it's about time we prove them wrong."
As they arrived at their final destination for wands, a burst of enthusiastic greeting awaited them. "Ahoy, young wizards! I am Garrick Ollivander, and today is the day we find the perfect wands for each of you!"
Stepping into Ollivanders, the interior unfolded like a mesmerizing tapestry. Rows upon rows of slender boxes, stacked from floor to ceiling, stretched out in every direction. Each box held a unique wand, meticulously crafted and infused with extraordinary power.
With a warm smile, Albus expressed his gratitude. "We are truly grateful for your assistance, Garrick." The two orphans eagerly began trying out various wands under Ollivander's watchful eye.
After nearly two hours of exploration, the old man presented Tom and Hermione with a pair of intriguing wands. "Tom, this wand is made of yew and boasts a phoenix feather core. It measures approximately 13 inches in length," he explained, leaving the boy in a state of awe and wonder.
"Hermione, this wand is crafted from holly, also with a phoenix feather core. It measures 11 inches," the old wandmaker continued, igniting a spark of excitement in the girl's eyes.
As the two youngsters tested the wands, an enchanting amber glow enveloped them, signifying a profound connection. Garrick chuckled and remarked, "Isn't it fascinating that these wands have chosen both of you? The phoenix that provided the feathers for their cores only gave two."
Curiosity painted across his face, Tom couldn't help but ask, "What does that mean?"
Ollivander replied, his voice laced with a hint of mystery, "Well, yew wands like yours, Tom, are incredibly rare. Their owners often possess a unique understanding of life and death."
Intrigued, Hermione leaned forward and inquired about her own wand. "What about holly wands?"
Mr. Ollivander responded with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with wisdom, "Ah, holly wands! They are particularly suited for those on spiritual journeys and have the remarkable ability to produce powerful protective magic."
He gazed at them with an amused expression, his words laced with a hint of mischief. "Ah, these two wands with twin cores, they don't quite do well against each other, no siree. You two make for one intriguing duo, I must say!"
As the trio exchanged glances, Albus finally broke the silence, his eyes twinkling with intrigue. "Quite fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"
Unable to contain her curiosity, Hermione blurted out, "What on earth was he even trying to say?" Tom chimed in, "Let's save that topic for when we reach Wool." Nodding in agreement, they continued on their way.
Upon arriving at the orphanage, Riddle's distress was evident, but Granger remained composed and pulled out an old copy of Hogwarts: A History from her bag, a thoughtful gift from Dumbledore.
"You know, I stumbled upon something truly astonishing in this book," she declared. "Salazar Slytherin, one of the esteemed founders of our school, possessed the rare ability to speak Parseltongue, just like you! It's considered a dark and enigmatic magical language, often associated with those who delve into the shadows."
Tom's eyes widened in alarm. "Hermione, you mustn't utter a word of this to Dumbledore or anyone else!" he urged, a sense of urgency echoing in his voice.
The conversation continued as they delved into the implications of their startling discovery. "Isn't it peculiar," Hermione pondered, "that a school dedicated to nurturing magic for the greater good has one of its founders entwined with such dark magic?"
Tom nodded, lost in thought. "There is so much we still don't know about the Magical World and the secrets it helds... It leaves us with more questions than answers, doesn't it?"