Chapter Text
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CHAPTER I
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∘₊✧── ALBUS ──✧₊∘
June 24, 1933 - Wool’s Orphanage
“Forgive me, sir. I’m afraid I’m just a little confused.” The woman spoke from behind the desk as she observed Albus carefully, her nervousness palpable to even those not the least bit attuned.
A quick perusal into her mind showed she was hesitant to let him into the orphanage, wary of allowing him within their halls and even if it were for admittedly good reason, that wouldn’t do for what he needed. He had plans for the seven year old wizard that lived within the walls of the establishment.
He plastered on a smile, watching the mannerisms of the muggle woman. “I grew up in a home like this and would like to ensure he has someone to look after him like I once had.”
Her eyes lit up when she smiled, her thoughts running a mile a minute as Albus made sure to carefully caress over the surface of her mind. “Oh! Were you looking to adopt?”
He continued to smile, his hand tightening on the wand in his hand, transfigured to appear as a simple cane. “No. I would have loved to when younger but…alas, I can no longer offer such accommodations. I merely seek to offer a… mentorship of sorts.”
Over the years, he’d found that Muggles always did tend to be overly open with their emotions and even now, he had yet to be proven wrong. Her sympathy and joy for the young boy nauseated him as an understanding smile overcame her features. Just as with the rest he had come across in his lifetime, not an ounce of her was trained to hide the type of person she was or how she felt.
Albus fought the urge to scowl. It was already an inconvenience that his original plans were ruined, but in order for his new plan to be set into motion, he needed this meeting to work—to go well. This new path would take many years, decades even, and he knew if he played his pawns correctly, he would finish victorious.
The boy would be his first piece to set the entire game into motion.
A simple plan, really.
“Well, we know next to nothing of the boy's parents. He was found by authorities in the home and they were both nowhere to be found,” she told him, looking over the thin folder. "We assume they got into some trouble and abandoned him."
He already knew this. It wouldn’t have worked for Albus if the boy actually had a family to come and collect him before he had a chance to make a change. Preferably, no one would ever come for him and if Albus had done everything correctly, they wouldn’t.
The woman rose from her seat, giving him a shaky smile as Albus proceeded to follow her down the desolate halls, passing one empty room after the other, to a small one at the end.
"Where are the other children?" he asked, trying to make the polite conversation he knew would be expected of him.
She looked up as she walked, and smiled sadly, her thoughts flashing to the little ones out on the field behind the building they were currently in. "They're outside at the moment. Not many of them are too keen on spending time with this one. He's…peculiar to them and I'm afraid it scares them into not wanting to be his friend."
"Has he managed to hurt anyone?"
She shook her head and shrugged slightly. "No. Well, not purposefully, I'm sure. There have been…incidents."
Albus nodded once as they reached the end of the hall and she opened the door to reveal the interior. In the room, a slight boy sat by the window, watching the children play down below, Albus figured. When he turned to the adults entering, his deep blue eyes lit up with excitement. Albus internally scoffed at the wonder the boy still had.
That would need to be diminished sooner rather than later.
“Hello,” Albus said, kneeling down to be closer to the boy's height. “My name is Albus Dumbledore.”
When the boy smiled, it was a picture of innocence. There was a brightness to his eyes that he was sure had captivated many and would have been infectious if Albus wasn’t immune to charming behaviors. The boy held out his hand, waiting patiently for it to be shaken. Such a muggle custom, the older wizard thought.
“Hello, sir,” he said in a quiet voice, dropping his hand into his lap when Albus had made no move to shake it.
“I’ll allow you to visit alone for a while. I’ll come back in a while to bring you both down for dinner this evening if you’d like,” the woman said before smiling and walking out of the door.
Albus watched as the young wizard looked over at him, his head tilting as he furrowed his little brows. “Do I know you?”
Albus smirked, his eyes twinkling with malevolent excitement.
“No. I am simply a friend.” He stood before taking a seat on the small, worn down bed. “Now, tell me, do you believe in magic, Mr. Riddle?”
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∘₊✧── TOM ──✧₊∘
September 6, 1939 - Hogwarts
Tom thought it was particularly odd that a man who seemed so calm and in control kept his surroundings so chaotic. He couldn’t imagine keeping a straight mind surrounded by knickknacks and things strewn a muck.
He’d simply go mad if he were honest.
And he was, his mind racing as he fidgeted with the point of his tie feeling trapped in the painfully familiar office once more. He looked over the same shelves, occasionally appalled but never shocked when a new useless object popped up. When there was nothing of recent, his perusal then lingered on the large, fiery bird that sat on its perch just beside the desk, taking a peculiar interest in him while it pruned its feathers. Even though a phoenix was truly a magical creature to marvel at, its mannerisms were too calm and almost curious.
It set Tom on edge.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Dumbledore slid a crystal dish, glittering in the afternoon sun, across the desk. Tom eyed the candies within, little yellow morsels that exploded with lemon flavor the moment he would place it on his tongue and his mouth watered at the prospect. Leaning forward, he snatched one from the dish and placed it in his mouth, watching carefully as Dumbledore leaned back and quietly tended to his tea.
Familiar was only one way to describe the feeling he had where he sat. It was a routine, one that Professor Dumbledore imposed on him without fail every month to simply talk about anything and at times, nothing at all.
It was also dark.
While it might have been light and airy with the windows overlooking the Black Lake open, allowing the room to be engulfed in a cool breeze year round, there was something else that had unnerved him from the moment he stepped inside. Sometimes he felt as if the walls held secrets that called to him, speaking in a language he was sure only he understood.
He let go of his tie when the sound of a spoon clinking against the side of a cup broke him out of his thoughts. He couldn’t help but watch the older man, the slow way in which he moved and the smile that seemed to always be plastered on his face, it all seemed backhanded. He wasn’t sure how someone could always seem so happy but then again, Tom wasn’t sure how people felt much of anything.
His housemates always came back from breaks happier than they were before they left, as if the time away from the castle had been nothing like his own. Deep down, he knew his circumstance was unique, and while he wanted to shrug it off, he stopped himself, averting his gaze from Dumbledore to instead stare back out the window. He supposed that some might enjoy being away from Hogwarts if they didn’t have an orphanage to call home, fighting for basic necessities like food and clothing that fit properly.
Maybe he could visit with Malfoy’s family this year.
“It’s rather unfortunate, isn’t it, Tom?” Dumbledore asked.
Tom turned his attention to look at the man, finding himself slightly irritated that he’d been pulled from his thoughts once more. The periods of silence and small talk where he had to try and follow the old man’s thoughts frayed at his nerves.
The professor cocked his head slightly, his hands folded in his lap and Tom swallowed, feeling greeted by something dark and heavy. It lingered, enveloping him and squeezing gently enough where he couldn’t feel how tight his chest had become until it was too late, like a snake soothing its prey into vulnerable submission.
Before Tom could even think to ask what it was that his professor meant, the man’s eyes brightened as he continued. “While everyone else gets to return home to their loving families, you always find yourself back in that orphanage.”
Dumbledore said it kind enough but Tom couldn’t help but hear the mockery that laced every word. The way he looked at him with pity, maybe even empathy, and it was one thing to look at an orphan for what they were but to sit there and look sorry was even worse. His fists clenched on the arms of the chair watching as Dumbledore’s gaze flickered there for a moment before he returned his attention to Tom.
“It’s fine,” he offered, without any sign of his growing irritation.
Dumbledore hummed as he lifted his tea, his eyes never leaving Tom as he took a sip and set the cup back gently. “Is it? The…abandonment never bothers you? I recall that woman told me they believe your parents simply left you.”
There was a light in Dumbledore’s eyes, one that seemed to almost twinkle as he continued to watch Tom. How he was able to smile at him as if there should be no reason for what he said to be infuriating because it was merely a typical conversation to be had over tea. Tom’s jaw was clenched as he turned his head to watch the bird, schooling his shock to see it had been watching him first before taking a deep breath.
“Of course it does, Sir. I never deserved it. Any of this,” he said quietly, seethed through his clenched teeth.
There was a pause, a moment of silence that wasn’t filled with hesitation but anticipation. Then, “How does that make you feel?”
Tom’s attention snapped to Dumbledore's and he shook his head, tears burning the backs of his eyes.
“Well, angry, Sir. I–” He stopped before the tears could fall, blinking them away as he tightened his hand around the arm of his chair, gripping it tight enough to splinter if he wanted to.
“Crying won’t serve you, Tom.”
He dipped his head once as the anger grew within him, thinking about everything that he held inside him. The feelings he had and those that felt distant. Like he should be able to experience them but they were heavily veiled, clouded by something he couldn’t get past.
“Sometimes I feel like other people deserve to hurt too,” he whispered before he hesitantly lifted his gaze and met the blue eyes of his professor. “And sometimes it scares me.”
Dumbledore seemed to settle more into his seat as he observed the boy in the chair across from him, shaking with pent up fury merely looking for a way to be released. When he smiled, it was large and his eyes shined, almost like he was relieved that Tom had admitted what he had and it made him slightly nervous from where he sat.
The older man sighed and shook his head. “There’s no need to be scared, Tom. I can help you.”
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Enemies of the Heir, Beware…