Chapter Text
The day Albus and Nimue met Tom Riddle and his daemon did not start especially auspiciously.
He had received another letter that morning. The dread of what he might write, the longing to read his words again, tied Albus’ stomach in knots. In the end, Nimue had to chase away the owl, the missive still attached to its leg.
Even his favourite purple suit and the comforting weight of his daemon pressed against his leg did nothing to brighten Albus’ mood, as he knocked on the orphanage door and was let in.
He was frankly unimpressed with the place. It was obviously shabby, overcrowded and underfunded. The matron seemed shrewd, but she had more than a passing fondness for hard liquor. Not exactly the kind of person you’d want in charge of young children.
All of which would have made him feel a lot of sympathy for Tom Riddle, had Mrs Cole not levied very serious accusations towards him. Bullying, killing animals, it painted a distressing picture. Of course, the matron could be mistaken, but she fully believed what she said. If anything, she had downplayed her fear of Tom Riddle.
Mrs Cole introduced him to the boy, and he was, at first glance, a very good-looking child. Yet, there was something distinctively unchildlike about him. Perhaps it was his eyes, so dark a brown they looked completely black, or the wary way he eyed Albus and Nimue.
Tom didn’t reply to his “How do you do?” and shook his hand with some reluctance. His daemon too ignored Nimue’s polite greeting. She was coiled around Tom’s arm in the shape of a black and brown snake, probably an adder.
“I am Professor Dumbledore,” he tried again, feeling his patience already fraying.
“‘Professor’? Is that like ‘doctor’? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” Albus was used to disbelief, questioning and sometimes outright hostility when meeting Muggleborn wizards and their families for the first time, but that usually started after he’d broached the topic of magic.
“No, no,” he said, keeping his friendly smile pasted on with some effort.
“I don’t believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!”
It took all of Albus’ considerable acting talent to stay impassive. He had felt something against his Occlumency shields. Was Tom Riddle a Legilimens? How much control did he have on his magic? Judging from how dismayed he was at Albus’ lack of reaction, he’d issued the same command to many others before, and been obeyed.
“Who are you?” Tom Riddle really was the rudest boy he’d ever met. The sooner Albus was done with him, the better.
“I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.”
The boy jumped away from him, his daemon hissing softly. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn’t it? ‘Professor’, yes, of course - well, we’re not going, see?”
Nimue cut off his rant gently but firmly, “Why would you fear being sent to an asylum? Sadrella?” The daemon did not say anything, but her slitted red eyes were fixed upon Nimue.
It was Tom who answered, cheeks red in annoyance at being interrupted. “They all think we’re mad. Delusional. But that’s not true, and we’re not going anywhere.”
“Do you like it here?” continued Nimue.
For the first time, Tom seemed to hesitate. “It’s alright,” he finally said. “We manage.”
“I think you would be much happier in Hogwarts. It’s a school for people with special abilities like yours. A school of magic.”
Boy and daemon stared at them. “Magic? It’s… it’s magic, what I can do?”
“What is it that you can do?” asked Albus. He was truly curious. Underage wizards were not supposed to have the degree of control Tom exhibited.
“All sorts. 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.” That confirmed it. Albus could not dig too deep into Tom’s mind without being detected, but his surface thoughts were proof enough that he despised the other orphans and delighted in frightening them and stealing from them.
“We knew we were different. We knew we were special. We always knew there was something,” continued Tom, seemingly unaware of anything around him.
“Well, you were quite right,” said Dumbledore drily. “You are a wizard.” More the pity. Why would such a cruel child have to be gifted with magic?
“Are you a wizard too?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Prove it,” said Tom in his usual high-handed manner, and Albus had enough of the rude little brat.
“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’.” Albus didn’t usually like pulling rank, especially not with children, but Tom was unpleasant enough to warrant that rebuke.
He also wasn't stupid, Albus had to give him that. He quickly realised this was not a fight he could win, and instead switched to a faux polite tone. “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me..?”
Time to teach that bully and thief a lesson. A little illusion would do.
Albus was about to flick his wand when Nimue’s tail hit his legs, not hard enough to make him stumble, but far from gently either. “Why don’t you show Tom and Sadrella some Transfiguration? You’re very gifted at it.”
Albus refused to argue with his daemon in public. So he turned the chair he’d been sitting on into a flock of birds, and then back.
Tom looked startled, then excited. “It’s very impressive, sir. Can I get one too… a magic wand?”
“Certainly. I have the list of the school supplies you will require, including your wand, books and uniform.” He handed his letter to Tom.
The boy read it quickly and said in a perfectly even voice “I don’t have any money, sir.” If he was embarrassed by it, he hid it well.
“That is easily remedied. There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy school equipment. I can take you to Diagon Alley and help you find everything you need, though some of it will probably have to be second-hand.”
“Do you need to come with us? I mean, I’m sure you have better things to do that accompany us, sir. We’re used to doing things for ourselves, I’m sure we will find everything we need on our own if you give us direction to this Diagon Alley.”
Albus was about to answer him when Nimue cut him off, “We do need to come with you. Not that I doubt that you’re capable, but it’s our job as Hogwarts teacher to look after students. Surely, you must have questions about the wizarding world, Sadrella?”
The snake daemon remained silent, unnerving Albus. Once more, Tom replied in her stead, “We do have some questions, sir, if you have the time to answer them. When should we go to Diagon Alley?”
“We can go now, though I would be grateful if you would point me to the bathroom first,” replied Albus cheerfully.
He locked himself and Nimue in a cubicle and cast a privacy spell so no one would hear them. “Why did you stop me from punishing him?”
“Can’t you see something is wrong, Albus? That child acted like a cornered animal.”
“Aggressive?”
“Terrified. This fear of being sent to the asylum, it’s not normal for a boy his age.”
“Neither is killing animals, stealing from and traumatising other children,” replied Albus drily.
“Precisely. This is not the behaviour of a normal bully, so punishing him like one might not achieve anything. It might even make things worse. Sadrella did not even say a word.”
“It could be just rudeness.”
His daemon glared at him. “Or it could be trauma. He spoke too much, and she too little. I don’t like it, Albus.”
“Do you think they might be abused?” The orphanage staff seemed to do their best with the little they had, but abuse was rarely obvious.
“Maybe. This place hardly seems like a haven of kindness and tolerance. I certainly did not like the way Mrs Cole and her daemon looked at me.”
“They were understandably shocked.” Nimue was a little over six feet long, an impressive size for a daemon. Most people would never have seen such a large lizard.
“It wasn’t just that. They probably found my form “funny”, just like they thought Tom was “funny” for not crying enough as a baby and Marvolo and Sadrella were “funny” names.”
“Hardly open-minded, I agree. But that doesn’t mean they would torment the boy.”
“If they truly labelled Tom as delusional, I would call that torment. Did you notice how he tried to get rid of us at the end? To go to a strange new place alone, at eleven? I don’t think Tom and Sadrella have a single speck of trust in the adults around them. If we want to get to the bottom of this, we need to get them to open up to us.”
Albus sighed. Nimue was right. Unpleasant or not, a child was still a child, and he could not judge Tom Riddle without first understanding his circumstances. “Very well. I guess you want me to talk to him, while you try again with his daemon?”
They returned to Tom and Sadrella’s room after a suspiciously long stay in the bathroom. The boy was sitting on his bed, his daemon whispering something into his ear. She had shifted from an adder into a smaller greyish snake, her scales almost fading into the drab uniform her human was wearing.
“Are you ready, Tom? We just need to let Mrs Cole know that I’m taking you out to buy your school supplies.”
“There is no need to, sir. We go out on our own all the time.” Albus and Nimue followed as Tom confidently strode out of the orphanage. No employees even gave him a second glance.
It was one thing to let a mature child run some errands on his own, but not to even know where he was and what he was doing? What if something happened to him while he was wandering through London? “We won’t be sorry to see the back of him,” Mrs Cole had said something of the sort. If Tom never came back one day, would she serve herself a generous tipple of gin and rejoice at her good fortune?
Her behaviour was neglectful at best, abusive at worst. Albus bent to scratch Nimue’s head, glad he’d listened to his daemon.
He could have Apparated them all to Diagon Alley, but he chose to walk instead, so he could make conversation with Tom. “So what do you like to do in your free time?”
“There’s not much to do in the orphanage, sir. Sadrella and I spend a lot of time reading, and going for walks in the city,” said Tom with a pleasant smile. If Albus had not personally witnessed his rude and aggressive behaviour earlier, he would have thought him a polite, if somewhat reserved, child.
It made sense. Tom Riddle was only abusive to those he thought weaker than him. Albus was a teacher at his new school, so he would want to make a good impression. That would not help him find out what was truly going on in the boy’s life though.
Neither he nor Nimue managed to get more than polite banalities from Tom and complete silence from Sadrella by the time they reached Diagon Alley. “The entrance is cleverly concealed from Muggles - that is non-magical people - because they must not, under any circumstances, discover the existence of magic. This is the substance of the Statute of Secrecy, the most important law in the wizarding world. The Ministry of Magic’s role is mainly to enforce it,” explained Albus as he tapped the wall with his wand.
Tom nodded sagely, but there was a hint of fear in his eyes. “Did you perhaps use magic in front of Muggles? Accidentally, of course?” Albus pressed him.
“Only when I was very young, sir,” he admitted in a colourless voice. That wasn’t technically a lie. Tom used magic for his bullying, but the orphanage staff had never been able to catch him at it. “Will I be in trouble with the Ministry?”
“The Ministry is far more lenient towards children too young to attend Hogwarts. Muggles are fairly good at ignoring or explaining away strange events, and any children practising or witnessing magic would most likely be deemed merely overly imaginative by adults.” Albus paused. “You said that Mrs Cole thought you were mad. Did you mention magic in front of her?”
Tom stiffened. “As I said, I was very young, sir, and didn’t yet understand that my abilities were out of the ordinary. They didn’t believe me, so no harm was done.”
On the contrary, Albus thought a great deal of harm had been done. “Did they threaten to send you away? To the asylum?”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Tom replied coldly, then stayed stubbornly silent until they reached Ollivanders. His eyes darted back and forth, taking in the colourful throngs of witches and wizards and the various shop windows.
“We shall start with buying your wand. The Ollivanders are one of the finest wandmaking families in the world.” They entered the small, dusty shop and were greeted by Garrick Ollivander, who’d recently inherited the business from his father, and his gecko daemon.
“Albus, how nice to see you again. My grandfather sold you your wand, did he not? Acacia and phoenix feather, twelve inches, quite temperamental?”
Albus smiled. “The Ollivander family’s knowledge of wands is unmatched as always. Please allow me to introduce Tom Riddle to you. He will begin Hogwarts in September and need one of your fine wands.”
The young man turned his silver eyes to Tom. “Nice to meet you, Tom Riddle. No two Ollivander wands are identical. Whether of phoenix feather, dragon heartstring or unicorn hair, we shall find the one that is perfect for you.”
He started by taking Tom’s measurements. Albus noticed that Sadrella merely moved from Tom’s arm to his leg. He’d never seen her away from him. Normal children’s daemons would wander away from their humans (while staying within their range, of course), speak to other daemons and occasionally goof around. None of which Sadrella did. It felt like a defensive posture. Nimue comparing them to a cornered animal made more and more sense.
Tom tried wand after wand, but none seemed to fit him. That too, was unusual. Albus had brought several children to Ollivanders before and all found their match by the third or fourth try. “I do love a tricky customer. Why don’t you try this one? Yew and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches, unyielding.”
As soon as he took the wand, the atmosphere changed. It was like a tremor on the ground, a muttering in the air. Albus shivered despite himself, Nimue pressing her body to his. Tom swished the wand confidently and it sparkled gold and silver.
“Well done! A very powerful match. And a very funny coincidence too.”
“What coincidence, Garrick?”
“Well, Mr Riddle's new wand was created with a feather from your phoenix, and here you are with him as he purchases it.”
“You own a phoenix, sir?” asked Tom, impressed
“I'm fortunate enough to count one as a friend.”
“Albus is far too modest. Like the wand chooses the wizard, phoenixes carefully pick their companions, and they only go for exceptional witches and wizards. My father was most grateful to you, Albus, for convincing Fawkes to give us some of his feathers. Most phoenixes will only give one feather every few centuries, but Fawkes gifted us with a precious two. My father crafted wands from them, one of holly and one of yew.”
“What happened to the holly wand, sir?”
“It’s still here. No doubt it will find its rightful owner someday, just as the yew wand found you. It might take decades and hundreds of wizards walking through this door before it does so. Which is why it’s so funny Albus was here while you were chosen. Quite the coincidence indeed.” Garrick Ollivander chuckled to himself as he wrapped up Tom’s purchase.
“There are no coincidences, only the will of magic . You were fated to meet that boy, just like you were fated to meet me,” said his voice in Albus’ head. It had been almost forty years, and yet he could not forget.
Was he right? Was Tom Riddle being chosen by a wand made from Fawkes’ feather, in front of his very eyes, a sign that he and Albus were somehow connected? Albus had never shared his former lover’s staunch belief in fate, but magic did have its way. Was it nudging him to take care of a boy who, despite his cruelty, did not deserve to be neglected and alone?
They said goodbye to Ollivander and moved on to buy Tom’s uniforms, books, and potion set. Albus noticed he counted the money carefully and bought everything second-hand without complaint. “Are you saving to buy a pet?”
“Oh no, sir. I was hoping to buy a few more books with the leftover money, if that’s allowed.”
“I don’t see why not. You’re a very studious boy, Tom.” He hadn't even glanced at the shops that most children were drawn to, like the ice cream parlour.
“I’m quite good at school, sir. I hope to do just as well in Hogwarts.” Albus could not help feeling some admiration. That was some truly excellent acting there, though it was discomfiting that a child would feel the need to hide so much.
“Well, before we return to the bookshop, I’m in the mood for some ice cream. It’s my treat.” Tom seemed surprised, but followed him readily enough to the parlour.
Albus ordered the biggest sundae on the menu, as usual. Tom hesitated in front of the vast array of flavours available. He might never have had ice cream before. “If you want advice on the flavours, I've tried all of them at some point,” Albus said gently.
“I'll take a scoop of lemon and one of pistachio, please. Will you really eat all of that, sir?”
“Of course. I have a fondness for sweets.”
“I didn't even know it was possible to consume that much sugar in one sitting,” said Tom dryly, and Albus smiled encouragingly.
“I certainly wouldn't recommend children eat that much ice cream, but an old man like me is allowed his little eccentricities.”
“An old man? Surely you can't be older than forty-five, sir.”
“In fact, I'm about to turn fifty-seven. Wizards live longer and age slower than Muggles. There are many such differences between the non-magical world and the magical world. Do you have any questions for me, Tom?”
“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?”
That boy was a Parselmouth? “It is a rare ability. In Great Britain, only the Gaunts could speak Parseltongue, and that family line ended a while ago.” At least, he'd thought so, because he'd never met any Gaunts, at Hogwarts or otherwise. But maybe a daughter, marrying out… He would need to check.
“Gaunt, sir? Not Riddle? I thought my father could be a wizard too. He was also called Tom Riddle, they’ve told me.”
“I can't say for sure. Riddle is not a traditional wizarding name so, if your father was a wizard, he was likely Muggleborn.”
“Two Muggles can have a magical child?” asked Tom, shocked.
“Yes, though it is very rare. The proportion of wizards to Muggle is so low however, as to make Muggleborns almost a fifth of our numbers.”
“So it's still likelier than not that one or both of my parents had magic, sir?” Albus nodded. Tom continued, speaking almost to himself, “It must've been him. My mother can’t have been a witch, or she wouldn’t have died."
It was not as simple as that, but Albus, not knowing anything for sure, chose not to contradict him. “There are extensive genealogies in Hogwarts library. If you're interested in your wizarding heritage, I'm sure you will find something. Nimue and I can help you if you wish.”
“Oh, I wouldn't want to trouble you, sir. I'm sure Sadrella and I can manage on our own.” Once again, refusing help. Albus had a long way to go before the boy would trust him.
“Do you only take the shape of snakes, Sadrella?” asked Nimue, still trying to engage her into the conversation.
Tom stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Sadrella prefers reptile forms, especially snakes.” As if on cue, the daemon on his shoulder changed into an eye-poppingly green snake. It couldn't possibly be native to Great Britain.
“Impressive! Did you see that form in an encyclopaedia?” said Nimue. Most children's daemon could only turn into animals they'd seen in person.
“Yes. Sadrella can do all kinds of things other daemons can't,” said Tom proudly. He added, as if unable to stop himself, “So you don't mind that she's a snake then?”
“Why would we mind that?” asked Albus, genuinely puzzled.
“Because snakes are cold, cruel and duplicitous animals, or so we hear,” said Sadrella. She sounded mildly amused.
“Who told you that?” asked Nimue, incensed.
“That stoat of Cole's did, though he would never be brave enough to say it to our face.”
“Mrs Cole's daemon was wrong,” said Albus firmly. “No animal is evil, and to judge a person hastily based on the shape of their daemon is very foolish indeed. When we were your age, Nimue changed into all kinds of animals, snakes among them, before settling as a perentie.”
“We'd never seen a perentie before,” said Sadrella.
“They're the largest lizards in Australia. Fascinating creatures,” said Nimue proudly. She paused. “You didn't talk before. Why?”
“I only talk to people worth talking to.”
“And no one in the orphanage is,” concluded Albus softly. He wouldn't be as harsh as he would have been earlier, but this needed to be addressed. “You've been behaving cruelly towards the other children. Your wardrobe is full of things you stole from them.” Tom's eyes widened, but he knew better than to deny it. “Why did you do this?”
“Why not? They'd do the same to us if they could,” said Sadrella flippantly.
“So you choose to be bullies out of fear of being bullied?”
Tom bristled at that. “We're not afraid of a bunch of little crybabies. But we have no reason to be kind to them either. They all think we're delusional freaks anyway.”
Albus sighed. “People having unkind thoughts about you is no excuse for cruelty. You must return the belongings you stole, with your apologies. Then, I'll consider the matter closed, because I want you to have a fresh start in Hogwarts. You will be surrounded by children with the same abilities as yours, so you can better connect with them. No bullying will be tolerated, either coming from or directed towards you.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tom, once again polite and distant. Of course, he wouldn't just take Albus' word for it. He'd have to keep a very close eye on the boy.
“Now that this unpleasantness is dealt with, let's go and buy the books you wanted.” They returned to Flourish and Botts, where Tom spent his remaining money. He was back to playing the role of the model student, but Sadrella still deigned talking to them, so they'd made some progress.
Appearing weak in front of Tom and Sadrella would be a disaster, but making them think Albus and Nimue were out to get them (like everyone else in their life, or so they thought) would be just as bad. Firmness but fairness was the key.
They returned to the orphanage with their purchases. “I have to pass by Mrs Cole's office again, so I'll say goodbye to you now, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts.”
“Goodbye, sir.” Tom and Albus shook hands, while Nimue and Sadrella nodded to each other. Then, the boy disappeared back upstairs as Albus walked to Mrs Cole's office and knocked. He wouldn't bother with an appointment this time.
“Mr Dunderbore,” she said, surprised, then added in a resigned tone, “So you're not taking him after all?”
“Are you so eager to see him gone that you're letting him wander through the city alone?”
Mrs Cole reddened at the implied accusation. “If I didn't let him go, he'd sneak around and leave anyway. That creepy boy and this silent daemon of his. I'd rather not have them around the other children.”
“On that point at least we agree. The other children will do better without their bullies around, and Tom and Sadrella deserve caretakers that are invested in their well-being.”
“We're doing the best we can with the money and people we have. I guess your fancy school doesn't lack funding,” she replied scornfully.
“If it were a mere lack of resources, I would sympathise. But you didn't like Tom Riddle right from the start, didn't you? His name, his daemon, the strange things he used to say. You labelled him as delusional, and the other people here took their cue from you. Are you surprised then, that he behaved like a little monster when you've always treated him like one?”
Mrs Cole's daemon jumped on her lap and she petted him nervously. “That's nothing to do with us! This boy had something rotten in him right from the start. If you think you can change him, you're barking up the wrong tree.”
“If you think a child as young as eleven is irredeemably evil, then you have no business looking after him. I will find a couple to take care of Tom, at least during the summer holidays, but ideally permanently.”
He wouldn't let just any couple adopt Tom. They must be childless, or with older children who'd already left home, to avoid potential bullying. They must be smart enough not to fall for Tom's acting, and strong-willed enough not to let themselves be intimidated by him. They must be firm enough to punish him if he went too far, but caring enough to make him feel loved and supported no matter what. They must have time and energy to devote to helping a boy with severe behavioural problems.
Not one in a hundred couples would fit these criteria, but Albus would find someone. Tom's raw magical power, his intelligence and capacity for deception, his lack of empathy towards others, it was a very dangerous mix. He couldn't be left to his own devices.
“Adopting couples are thin on the ground, and who would take on such a boy? Though I wish you good luck. If you succeed, then he'll never have to come back here.”
“Mrs Cole,” said Albus softly, “before I talked to you, I asked Tom to apologise to the children he’d bullied. He will do it, not because he understands what he has done wrong yet, but because he is a clever boy. Rather cleverer than you, in fact. You will apologise as well, for your cruel remarks towards Tom and Sadrella. And, if you ever treat any children under your care so poorly as to make them terrified of being sent to an asylum, I will find out, and you will regret it. Have I made myself clear?”
She nodded, face bloodless.
“The name is Albus Dumbledore. When I next come to sort out Tom's adoption papers, see that you pronounce it correctly.”