It happened in the summer of 1938. One day, a strange man came to Wool's and asked to speak with her and Tom. As they were older children now, eleven to be exact, they were far too old for those looking to adopt a child, and still too young for those who wanted an extra set of hands. Thus, Hermione was curious as to what this strange man wanted.
He had unfashionably long hair and a beard, and he wore a pinstriped suit with a matching flower scarf. He sat with the children in Hermione's room— Tom did not like people in his— and introduced himself.
"I am Albus Dumbledore, and I am a professor at a very special school."
Excitement burned in Hermione. She was being recognized, she and Tom both, for being exceptional.
"How is this school special?" Tom asked coolly, his eyes narrowed as he studied the man. She could read the distrust coming off him in waves and was sure the man could, too.
Professor Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "Hogwarts is a school for magical children."
"I knew it!" Hermione exclaimed, then her hands flew to cover her mouth in embarrassment for her outburst. "I'm so sorry, sir."
"You've nothing to be sorry for, Miss Granger. I assume you both have had things happen, things that could only be explained by magic?" he asked.
She nodded. "Tom and I both. I can sometimes move things with my mind."
The professor hummed in acknowledgement. "And you, Mr. Riddle."
Tom didn't look any more willing to trust the man despite his discovery that he and Hermione had magic and were being invited to a magical school. "I can tell when people are lying to me. I can always tell." It almost sounded like a threat, like he was daring the man to try him. "And… I can talk to snakes. Is that a common ability?"
Hermione froze when Tom said that. It reminded her of what had happened with Amy and his response afterward, but there was no way Tom would be so cruel and all for a few words.
Only, a little niggling voice said, Tom was always particular about his things, and Hermione was his singular friend.
"It's not," Professor Dumbledore said. "It's quite rare, and I would keep such a thing to yourself and Miss Granger, as some might find it off-putting."
"Why would they find it off-putting?" Hermione asked.
The professor became thoughtful. "It has certain associations. I would recommend being discrete about it, at least until you've learned more about the Wizarding world."
"Alright," Tom replied. "And we are to go to this school, this Hogwarts?"
"Yes. There you'll learn all about magic, everything you need to know to become a fully-fledged wizard and witch. I know it must have been difficult, being with muggles all these years. Those are non-magical people," he explained. "But from now on, you'll be members of the magical world. Before you come to Hogwarts, you'll be getting your very own wand, just like this one." He pulled out a length of pale wood and whirled it; pink sparkles floated through the air around them and dissipated before they fell to the floor.
Hermione was breathless. This was the first true magic she'd ever seen. It was far beyond what she and Tom could do. Was that because of the wand?
She wanted one suddenly and powerfully, but there was a minor complication. "But sir, we're orphans. I have a trust for when I'm older, but I have no access to it now. How will we afford wands?"
"Hogwarts will provide what you need. We have a stipend for such a reason." He pulled out two letters and handed them to the children, along with two identical sacks that clinked gently as they shifted. Dumbledore opened one of the sacks and pulled out a small, bronze coin. "This is a Knut. It's the lowest coin of the three." He showed them a larger silver coin next. "This is a Sickle. There are twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. And this," here he produced a large golden coin, "is a Galleon. There are seventeen Sickles to a Galleon; these are the most valuable coins."
Hermione followed his explanation ardently, then said, "So there are four hundred and ninety-three Knuts per Galleon?"
Dumbledore beamed at her. "Very good, Miss Granger. Yes, there are. Before I go on, do you have any questions about Wizarding currency?"
The children shook their heads.
Throughout the conversation, it was mostly Hermione who spoke to the professor. Tom preferred to study the man as he spoke, to absorb everything, and he mostly spoke to answer questions from that point.
Professor Dumbledore gave them the letters and the money, the first Tom had ever had in his life and the first Hermione had had in years. He explained how to get into Diagon Alley, the shopping center of Wizarding London, and offered to take them himself, but Tom denied the offer.
"Hermione and I will do it on our own. We are used to such things."
It was true enough since they were at an age where they often went to fetch things for the orphanage; bread, eggs, and so on.
When Dumbledore finally left, Hermione turned and grabbed Tom in a hug. "Magic, Tom! We're magical!" She was overcome with joy.
Tom patted her back awkwardly. "Yes, and now we'll have a whole world to explore."
"A magical school," she murmured, backing away to hold his hands. "Can you imagine?"
"We won't have to," he said. "We'll be there soon enough."
It was mid-August when Tom finally convinced Mrs. Cole to allow the two of them to go out into London alone. They had to buy new uniforms and other necessities, he told the woman. She was aware the children were going to a school for gifted children, and that the school provided everything necessary monetarily, so the orphanage would not have to do so, but she was still leery about this situation.
Hermione chattered almost the entire way to The Leaky Cauldron, a pub that looked as ordinary as could be to Tom, though muggles walked past as though it didn't exist. He nodded toward it and Hermione's eyes widened, her cheeks colored. She was almost too excited.
"Let's go," she said, taking his hand and dragging him inside despite the fact that he was quite willing.
"Excuse me," Tom said to the barman, a bald man who was polishing a cup that looked squeaky clean already. "Professor Dumbledore said you could help us get into Diagon Alley."
"That's right. I'm Tom and this here is my pub. And you are?" the man asked.
Tom looked affronted to share his name with the pub owner, but he answered, "I'm Tom Riddle and this is Hermione Granger, my friend."
Tom the Barkeep nodded and smiled when he heard his own given name shared with the boy. "Well, Tom Riddle and Hermione Granger, come along then." He led them out back and to a brick wall, then produced his long, slim wand. Hermione was thrilled to see more magic and leaned close, watching the man. "Watch closely," he said, then he tapped a sequence out on the bricks.
They began to merge from the center outward until they formed an archway through which one could come and go. Revealed on the other side was a street the likes of which Hermione had never seen.
She wandered in almost without thinking, Tom by her side.
The street was lined with shops with names like Quality Quidditch Supplies, which had sporting gear and broomsticks in the windows, and Slu and Jigger's Apothecary. Witches and wizards stood outside hawking wares, or wandered around the shops, darting in and out as necessary. Most everyone was dressed in flowing robes of brilliant colors or dark, some with pointed hats atop their heads.
Hermione turned to Tom, a smile stretching her mouth. "Where should we go first?" She wanted so much to explore, to map this place in her heart.
Tom gazed around, his excitement only shown by his blown pupils and the color in his fair cheeks. "Ollivanders." He pointed to the modest shop with its display of wands. "I think we should start there."
Hermione nodded eagerly and took his hand again, leading the way to the shop. Tom buried his amusement much like his excitement and allowed her her antics.
A bell chimed when they entered the dim, stuffy shop. The walls were lined with boxes smaller than those for shoes, perhaps half that size on average. The shop had an atmosphere of expectation to it like the wands were all waiting for something to happen. Hermione herself wondered if the shopkeeper would appear in a cloud of smoke or some other fantastical way to meet that expectation.
Instead, he came down a set of stairs partially blocked from sight by a wall of boxes. "Good afternoon. You must be here for your first wands."
He was a man with longish hair in his middling years, but what stood out was the intensity of his pale blue eyes, which shone in the darkness like twin moons. There was something about him that reminded her of Tom, a certain intensity of his gaze.
He peered back and forth between them. "I am Mr. Ollivander and this is my shop."
"Tom Riddle," said Tom. "And this is my friend, Hermione Granger."
"Mr. Riddle and Miss Granger. Those are new names to me," replied the man. "New blood. You, at least, Miss Granger. Welcome to the Wizarding world. Come, allow me to show you some of my creations."
Hermione didn't know why, but she felt shy around this man and allowed Tom to take the lead. She followed Mr. Ollivander toward the counter at the back of the shop and watched as he skimmed among the boxes to find two that were suitable.
"For you, Miss Granger. Vinewood, eleven inches, unicorn hair. A supple wand." He held it handle toward her and she took it. When nothing happened, he gave her a gentle smile and said, "Go on, give it a swish."
Hermione felt quite foolish as she flicked the wand in an arc; nothing happened.
Mr. Ollivander studied her a moment and hummed. "Not quite. We'll try again in a moment." Then he turned to Tom. "Mr. Riddle, this is Holly, dragon heartstring core, quite rigid."
Tom took the wand and mimicked Hermione, but all that happened was a box falling off a shelf.
Mr. Ollivander shook his head and took the wand back. "You will be a difficult one, I think. Just a moment while I find another set for you."
He put the two wands in their boxes and set them aside, then wandered the store for a moment. When he returned, he had a handful of boxes. "Miss Granger, ash wood, unicorn hair, ten and a half inches, unyielding."
Hermione swished the wand and her dress threatened to rise over her head, barely held in place by her quick thinking. "No, thank you," she said, handing the wand back to its maker.
"Fair enough. Here, dragon heartstring, walnut, twelve and thre- quarter inches, unyielding," he told her.
This time, Hermione felt something when she held the wand, but it was an unfriendly sort of feeling, like something was crawling on her skin. She shook her head immediately. "Not this one."
"No? A shame. It's a good wand, strong." He then turned his attention to Tom. "Try this. Unicorn hair, walnut, sturdy."
It let out a single glimmer of gold when Tom arced it, but nothing more. Mr. Ollivander sighed and swiftly replaced it. "Dragon heartsring, ivy, ten and three-quarter inches, sturdy."
A curious expression crossed Tom's face when he took the wand in hand, but when he swished, the draw of the till dinged as it flew open.
"I wonder…" said Ollivander. He peered at Tom, then at Hermione, and it was as though he were looking straight into them. Tom raised a brow in challenge which made the older man smile, but Hermione was daunted by the intimacy of the gaze. "Give the wand to Miss Granger," he said at last.
Hermione accepted the wand from Tom. It was warm already and that warmth seemed to spread to her toes. She swished the wand in a circle and a shower of red sparkles streamed from the end to dance around her. She laughed.
"Yes, that's it." Mr. Ollivander nodded, pleased with himself for discovering something. "Now, what to do about you, Mr. Riddle."
He had Tom try two more wands from his stack, including the one Hermione had immediately rejected, but none of them were right. She could see the irritation growing in her friend; his jaw ticked and his eyes were flat.
By contrast, Mr. Ollivander seemed exhilarated by the challenge. At each wrong wand, he gained a little energy. After the fifth wrong fit, his expression brightened, he shook a finger and said, "I think I've got it."
Ollivander disappeared into the back of the shop and returned a moment later carrying a wand box in both hands as though it were a precious thing. "The phoenix who donated this feather only donated one other. Phoenix wands are rarer than others, and signs of great power."
Tom's eyes shimmered with avarice as he drank in those words. Mr. Ollivander opened the box and offered it toward Tom, who plucked it up. A strange wind traveled through the shop, ruffling hair and clothes, but having no ill effects. When Tom swung the wand through the air, emerald stars danced over his head.
"Good show!" Ollivander clapped. "Yes, indeed, I think we can expect great things from you." His eyes slid over to Hermione as he spoke, as though to include her in his statement. "Great things, indeed."
Ollivanders was the height of their trip to Diagon Alley, though Hermione enjoyed Flourish and Blotts immensely. She and Tom went there last, buying everything secondhand that they could in order to scrimp and save for what they both wanted most (after their wands): books.
They bought used copies of every curriculum title they could, and then they wandered amongst the aisles, reading covers and wondering over the world they had just entered.
In the end, they each had enough for exactly one book. Hermione being the practical young lady she was chose Hogwarts: A History. Tom picked out A Beginner's Guide to Magical Theory. It seemed a little advanced for muggleborns (a word she had only learned at Madam Malkin's where they went to buy school robes) entering their first year, but she knew they would devour both books before the start of their term.
Dragging too much for their thin frames, the two returned to Wool's laden with the accoutrement for their year at Hogwarts. They returned to their respective rooms to put everything away and refresh themselves before dinner but afterward saw them returning to Hermione's room with their new books in hand.
Tom had their Defense book while Hermione had their History book. She had a laugh when she took in his choice. "I thought starting with the school books was best, too," she said.
Tom's cheeks turned pink but his expression was otherwise impassive. "It's practical to get ready for classes. We're already at a disadvantage."
"Well," she responded, "we'll know everything before term starts."
They settled in, Tom at her desk and Hermione sitting on her bed, and read in companionable silence until Martha made rounds to tell the children it was time to return to their rooms.
Thus passed the remainder of their summer. The two would hurry through chores to get to their free time and read. Moreover, they decided to start on their Charms book at the same time with the express purpose of trying a few out. They thought it couldn't hurt, at least so long as they kept it out of sight. Thus, they hid behind a veil of trees in the courtyard or tucked away in Hermione's room during parts of the day when most children were outside.
Tom proved excellent and got most spells on his first try, much to Hermione's chagrin. Not that she wasn't happy for her friend, but she often had to attempt two or three times for a spell to work as intended.
"Do you think anyone would notice if I made you blonde?"
Hermione knew he was reading the colovaria charm then, the Color Changing Charm, and she pursed her lips before deigning to reply. "Yes, I think people would notice. Why? Do you have a preference for blondes?"
"Not at all," he replied. "I just wondered if the idiots surrounding us would be too caught up in their own heads to see it."
"Well," she said. "Mrs. Cole would definitely notice. She would come to tell me my daily chores and would have conniptions the second she saw me."
He released a single laugh at that.
"Oh, this one is useful," Hermione remarked. "It's a repair spell for spectacles."
"Do you know anyone who wears them?" Tom asked, already aware of the answer since he knew everyone she did.
"No, but that doesn't mean it's not a good spell to learn." It had been on the tip of her tongue to remark that her father had, and he lost or broke them more times than she could remember. If she had had this spell, she could have saved his so much annoyance. "Occulus reparo!" She made the motion for the spell as well, though nothing happened; there was nothing to repair.
"I'm sure that would have worked," Tom said. She didn't know if he was serious or poking fun at her.
She never really knew where she stood with Tom. He had only started calling her his friend when the other children at the orphanage had, and he often made remarks that could have been hurtful taken the wrong way. Hermione gave him the benefit of the doubt; Tom was notoriously difficult to read, though he could read others like a book. Most importantly, he counted her his friend, and people just weren't mean to their friends.
That is what she told herself when these moments came along. Hermione would absorb the possible interpretations and choose to accept the more gracious one. Thus, she replied, "Thank you, Tom," as though it had been a compliment.
The pair was especially restless for the days leading up to Hogwarts. The day before they were set to leave, Hermione confided her fears to Tom. "What if people don't like me? What if they all think I'm a bossy know-it-all?"
"Then they're just as blind as the fools here. Besides, what do they matter when you have me?" he replied. He didn't seem at all worried about the upcoming change in their lives.
"But it would be nice to have friend," she said, "More friends, that is. We could have friends who teach us about the magical world! I bet they know all sorts of things we can't find in books."
"We will learn those things over time," Tom said. He took the two steps from the chair to sit on the bed beside her, then placed a hand on her shoulder. It was rare that Tom initiated contact, so she leaned into it. "Hermione, you saw them in Diagon Alley. They're people like anyone else. They have magic, yes, but I doubt they are going to be as special as you or I. I don't want you to be disappointed when we go to Hogwarts and you discover it for yourself."
Hermione nodded and then laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm so glad I have you, Tom. I'd be all alone otherwise."
He stroked her hair and smiled.
NOTES
Thanks again to SeverianMatachin for the commission... I love this story.