Chapter Text
Book One
Fall 1931, London
On a fresh fall day, Tom sat on his creaky, iron bed. He shared his room with three other boys in Wool’s Orphanage–London’s favorite dumping ground for unwanted children. If he sat on the edge of his bed, he had a prime view of the front steps of the orphanage. He had discovered this view within the past few months. It was now where he spent his days when Mrs. Cole wasn’t trying to force him to socialize with other children.
His perch offered him the perfect angle to observe the children being dropped off and abandoned sneakily at his home. While Tom had only ever known the orphanage to be his home, most children’s first interaction with the building was filled with dread. From his dirty window, he got to witness what was surely the worst day of almost every child’s life that entered the orphanage. It was fascinating, watching those who were socially obligated to protect their young leave them, to watch the slow realization settle into another child’s face. Tom had always known he was alone in life, but now, so did these children.
On that particular day, Tom watched a small girl make her way down the cobblestone street. She looked like she was about his age–four or five. As she neared the orphanage steps, she continuously glanced back over her shoulder as though she had been coached on her path. Whoever abandoned her couldn’t even bring themselves to stand in the shadow of his home. Her cheeks were tearstained and dirty, hollow from lack of nutrients. Her hair was wild; he could see the knots from where he was. She had clearly not been taken care of in quite some time. Even from his window, Tom could see a piece of paper pinned to her shoulder. It was all she brought with her to the orphanage.
Tom fell back onto his bed and stared at the cracked roof of the room he lived in. He considered himself lucky to have always been at the orphanage. There was nowhere for him to miss, no home that he longed for. The springy beds and scratchy blankets were all he had ever known. The new girl downstairs had somewhere to miss, had people to remember, had a reason to cry herself to sleep. Tom wasn’t sure he had ever cried.
–
Spring 1933, London
The Great Slump had made life at the orphanage difficult over the years. Food was always being rationed, and the older children were sent out to find work instead of attending school. Tom counted himself lucky, having just started school the following year. He was too young to be sent off to the factories.
If he were being honest, he doubted Mrs. Cole would have sent him. In the past year, he had managed to terrorize his roommates and their replacements enough that she had had to give him his own room. Very few children in the orphanage ever got lucky enough to have their own room. Tom didn’t believe in luck; he worked hard to earn his own room. It was the size of a closet–just big enough for his creaky bed and a wardrobe–but it was his. In the move, he had lost his prime viewpoint of the orphanage’s front door, but he considered it worth the loss. Now he had a place to hide the items he found or stole, to seclude himself from the sniveling children who whine about missing their parents all night. He would give up his window any day to fall asleep without hearing crying.
Besides, his new room had a window that had overlooked their sad courtyard. Tom liked to leave the window cracked. It allowed him to eavesdrop on the other children and Mrs. Cole. It tended to unsettled them when he referenced what they had been discussing without him present.
“Oh, is this a new book?” a voice carried through his window, catching Tom’s attention.
Tom moved to sit at the head of his bed and glanced through the cracked glass. Below, in their sad courtyard, were two girls that lived in his orphanage. The girl who had spoken was Amy Benson, a fellow orphan Tom was very familiar with. She, too, liked to terrorize fellow residents, but there was no intelligence behind it. Amy was taller than most girls their age, giving her an advantage in the numerous fights she started. In her hands was a beat up book, which she was holding above her head. Tom rolled his eyes. Simpleton.
“Give it back!” the other girl spat out angrily. It was the messy-haired orphan he had watched be dropped off with just a note on her shoulder. He had later found out her name was Hermione Granger. They were in the same class at school, but he couldn’t remember once speaking to her. She kept to herself at the orphanage. In class, she only spoke to answer questions and spent recess inside with the teacher. Tom hadn’t expected such fire from her.
“Or what?” Amy laughed. It twisted her face into an ugly expression. “You’ll tell Mrs. Cole? I’m so scared!”
Hermione made a run at Amy, but Amy held her back with her one free hand. The smaller girl appeared to be trying to climb her bully to reach her book. Tom understood the desperation in her expression. It was hard to come by books outside of school, let alone the chance to own your own book. The school didn’t lend books to the orphans since they either never returned them or they came back damaged. He didn’t know how Hermione had gotten her hands on one, but she wasn’t going to let it be ruined.
Except, that was Amy’s goal. Their courtyard was designed to be a little grass area, but there hadn’t been grass planted as long as Tom could recall. It was just a sad patch of dirt that was home to puddles most of the year, seeing as the area had poor drainage. He could see the idea form in Amy’s eyes. Once she had realized that the smaller girl was willing to quite literally climb up her, Amy launched the book. A shout ripped from Hermione’s throat as her fingertips missed the book while it sailed directly into a muddy puddle. With two free hands now, Amy pushed Hermione off of her. The smaller girl landed on her arse with a thud .
Tom was expecting the confrontation to end there. Maybe Amy would kick some dirt at Hermione and Hermione would cry her eyes out over her book. That’s how Amy’s bullying typically went. He was about to move away from the window until he noticed that Hermione was pushing herself to her feet. She didn’t bother dusting herself off, dirt and mud sticking to her school uniform. Her brown curls–if you could call the mess of hair she had curls–seemed to be buzzing with electricity.
“That was my favorite book,” Hermione shouted at Amy. With her shout, Amy Benson flew backwards three yards and onto her own bottom without Hermione laying a hand on her. He watched as Hermione walked quickly over to the other girl and stood before her. For the first time, Tom saw fear in Amy’s eyes. “That was my favorite book!” Hermione repeated one more time, screaming it this time. She had been loud enough for Mrs. Cole to appear, which Tom was certain was her intention. He pulled away from the window while the head of the orphanage sorted the situation out.
Hermione had sent Amy Bension flying without laying a finger on the girl. Tom felt his heart racing. He held his hands up before his face and watched them shake. In all of his life, no one had ever seemed interesting to him, had ever caught his attention. For the first time not out of spite, Tom felt a smile spread on his lips.
She was just like him.
He shook his hands, trying to dispel the excited energy. When he glanced back out his window, Hermione was alone in the courtyard. She was on her knees by the puddle, mourning her book. Tom took his chance and walked quickly out of his room. He didn’t run–he didn’t want to draw attention to himself–but he did take the stairs two at a time. By the time he reached the courtyard, Hermione was standing and holding her waterlogged book. Without any hesitation, he walked directly up to her. Tom felt pride as a flicker of fear washed across her expression. He had never had a reason to terrorize her, but it was good to know it was common knowledge not to mess with him.
“Follow me,” was all he said before beginning to walk away.
“No.” Her words were firm as she stared at him.
Tom turned back and grabbed her wrist. “Come with me,” he ordered. The other children always listened to him.
Hermione shook her head at him, trying to rip her wrist free of his grip. “No!”
Nervously, Tom glanced around, making sure her shouting wasn’t drawing attention. He already knew he was on Mrs. Cole’s bad list. He didn’t need to give her anymore proof of his wrongdoings.
“Stop it,” he snapped and yanked at her arm. “I saw what you did to Amy,” he hissed. Hermione’s eyes widened at his words. “Come with me!”
Finally, Hermione stopped fighting. She let Tom guide her out of the courtyard by her little wrist, holding on far too tight. They left through the back of the orphanage and down the street. Tom led them to an empty, overgrown lot a block away, out of Mrs. Cole’s reach. Once they were there, he let go of her. Hermione rubbed her wrist and glared at him.
“I saw what you did,” he repeated.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione replied quickly. She glanced around, as if he had led her into a trap.
Tom shook his head and smiled at her. That alone perplexed her. He could see confusion swirling in her eyes. “Can you do more than that? Have you tried moving things?”
“What?” She swallowed nervously. Hermione looked like a cornered animal. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, stop it.” Tom shook his head at her again. “It’s amazing, right? Being able to do things no one else can? I thought I was the only one.”
He watched as the realization clicked in her honey-colored eyes. They widened, staring at him as if she had never seen him before. His smile grew, an expression he had never understood other children wearing. This was happiness.
“You can do it, too?” Hermione’s voice was just a whisper, as if someone would hear them in their empty lot.
“Of course I can,” Tom stated proudly. “I’ve been able to do all of that since before you came to the orphanage.”
Hermione shifted. “I think it’s why I was sent to the orphanage.” Her words were careful, and Tom knew she was disclosing her deepest truth then.
“You’re better off with me.” His words were firm. “If we can both do this, we should stick together.”
She looked afraid of his sentiment. He didn’t know if it was the dismissal of her past or the promise of a future, but it was fear nonetheless. “Prove it,” she demanded. Her brows furrowed together. “You’ve seen me do it. Now you’ve got to do some.” She crossed her arms across her chest.
Tom contemplated it for a moment. He reckoned it was a fair trade to establish loyalty. “Okay.”
It took a moment as Tom looked around them, trying to find what he would do. There was a rustle in one of the bushes. He got down low and stared into the brush. “ Come ,” he ordered whatever was hiding away. It took a moment, but out of the bush came a small rabbit. Its movements were weird, mechanical as it took one step after another out of its safe space.
“That’s just luck,” Hermione piped up.
Tom glanced up at her and saw an uneasiness in her eyes. He turned his attention back to the rabbit. “ Sit ,” he ordered. Automatically, the rabbit sat back on its hindlegs, an unnatural pose for a wild animal. It sat perfectly still while Tom smiled. “I’ve been practicing.”
“That’s enough.” Her voice sounded strained. “Let it go.”
At her request, Tom stood. Once he was away from the rabbit, the trance seemed to break. It fell back onto all fours and looked around, panicked. The rabbit scurried back into its bush, unharmed. “I can get most animals to do what I want.” He knew his pride was showing. He hadn’t ever been able to share his abilities with anyone.
Hermione was assessing him. “We’re the same?” she asked quietly. He understood the hesitation. He had never trusted another person before, but that also meant his trust had never been broken. She, on the other hand, had trusted deeply and had that trust be smashed in return. Most of the orphans at Wool’s refused to make stable relationships. They either clung to each other or went into things half-heartedly.
“We’re the same,” he repeated firmly. He was no longer alone in the world.
Slowly, Hermione nodded. “You can’t tell anyone,” she insisted. She stepped closer to him, trying to keep their words a secret.
“Of course not,” Tom insisted. “I don’t talk to any of the other children anyways.” He held her gaze, letting her read his expression clearly.
“I don’t get along with them,” she admitted. Her cheeks tinted with embarrassment.
“I can take care of that,” Tom told her. He knew the widening of her eyes meant she was more than familiar with his reputation in the orphanage.
“Do you promise?” her voice was so quiet as she asked him three simple words. Tom had never made a promise to anyone before.
“I promise.”
–
Summer 1934, London
After the discovery of Hermione’s similar abilities, they became attached at the hip. She was luckily in Tom’s year at school. Instead of her eating her lunches alone, Tom sat with her each day. Amy Benson no longer stole the little food Hermione had, not with Tom standing by her side. Tom did his best not to acknowledge it, but life at the orphanage was better when he wasn’t fending for himself. He had never had trouble managing to do so. It was simply pleasant to share his winnings with someone that also deserved them.
It was a warm summer day when Tom found Hermione in the room she shared with three other girls. He stood at the open doorway and knocked politely. The other girls were in the room and each one froze once they noticed his presence. He allowed himself a moment to bask in their fear while he waited for Hermione’s attention. Once she looked up from her book–one he had stolen just for her–she beamed at him.
“Come on, we’ve got plans today,” he informed her. She happily hopped off her bed and hid her book under her mattress. The girls she roomed with had never been an issue before, but the hiding of her belongings made Tom think of Amy again. He would have to check if she was still an issue.
Tom led her out of the tiny room she slept in and down the bare hallways of the orphanage. They both didn’t speak much inside the building, always worried Mrs. Cole was just around the corner listening. She seemed to be everywhere, all the time.
Once they were out the front gates, Hermione’s small hand found Tom’s. It was a warm summer day. Both of their hands were clammy, gross pushed together. Tom wasn’t a fan of the gesture, but it seemed to soothe her anxiety when they wandered the city together. The effects of the Great Slump had eased in the city. It was busier than he could ever remember, the streets filled with cars and people rushing around. He could see where her concern of being separated stemmed from, albeit the touching wasn’t great.
“Where are we going?” Hermione asked once they were far from Wool’s. That place sucked the life out of her.
“I have something I want to show you.” pride seeped into his words. She smiled up at him.
“Is it…?” She let her voice trail off. They didn’t have a name for the things they did, but it was better like that. Tom was afraid that if Mrs. Cole knew she’d send them away to the Bethlem Asylum. He’d heard tales of terror orphans being sent there before his time. The fear of that kept him from being too horrible to his peers.
Tom only answered her with a nod. It sparked her smile to grow, lighting up her honey eyes. He squeezed her sweaty hand and took a sharp turn down an alley. The route he led them on took them through muddy backstreets until they reached the outskirts of the city. The sun was high in the sky, beaming down on them.
“It’s best to try this when it’s warm out, I’ve noticed,” he informed her. They were by a patch of woodlands that had survived the city’s continuing expansion. There was a thin dirt path along the side of a trickling stream. The grass was overgrown and waist height. If they were quiet enough, he could already hear rustling amongst the brush.
“Try what?” Hermione asked. Her brow furrowed like it always did. She hated not knowing things. Tom, on the other hand, loved surprising her with knowledge. As orphans, they didn’t have much in the world, but he could always learn something new to give her.
He didn’t answer her. Tom released her hand and wiped his palm on his thin trousers. At the joining of the bank of the strem, Tom crouched low. Hermione followed suit, kneeling next to him. The tall grass began to move, a quiet rustling as something small moved towards them. Out of the brush a little snake made its way. It held its head a few inches off the ground, the rest of its body still amongst the grass.
Hermione scrambled backwards quickly. “Snake!”
Tom, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch. He shushed her. The snake seemed to be staring right into his eyes, greeting him.
“ Good day,” he greeted the small creature. The snake was one of the smaller ones he had seen – which might’ve been good given Hermione’s reaction. His underbelly was pale yellow and black while the topside of him was a neutral brown. A book in the school library had informed Tom that this was a grass snake, native to the area. They were nonvenomous, not that that had ever concerned him before.
“ Greetings ,” the snake hissed softly back at him. It slowly swayed, balancing its body as it hovered its head above ground.
In just that interaction, Hermione had moved back to Tom’s side. “You can speak to snakes?” she demanded. He glanced sideways at her to find her awestruck. He appreciated the expression, but it hadn’t been what he expected.
“Yes,” he replied. “Can’t you understand what he said?” She hadn’t seemed surprised when he had made a rabbit follow his directions before. He couldn’t understand how she couldn’t wrap her head around this interaction.
“No,” she told him firmly. “You’re hissing at each other.” Her eyes were wide. “Can you understand what he’s saying?”
“Of course I can.” Tom looked between Hermione and the snake. “He’s not hissing. We’re talking.”
“Tom, that is hissing leaving your mouth!” Hermione whispered loudly at him. She was trying to keep from shouting it to the world. He could see fascination begin to seep into her eyes.
“It doesn’t sound like hissing to me.” Tom tilted his head in intrigue and turned back to the little snake. “ You can understand me, yes? ”
“ Yesss, ” the snake replied. It continued its rhythmic swaying, flicking its small tongue as it communicated.
It made sense that they were communicating in a language the snake understood. He doubted whatever ability he had transferred over to the snake. Tom was the special one, not the creature before him. He looked at Hermione, assessing her for lies. “You really can’t understand what we are saying?”
By this point, Hermione had sat on the ground. She no longer looked fearful of the snake; she was too intrigued. “Not one bit,” she told him with a shake of her head. “When did you discover this?”
Tom settled onto the ground as well. “Probably a year ago?” He had to think about it. “I thought it was similar to me telling animals what to do. Snakes usually find me first, though.”
That got Hermione’s attention. Her face lit up. “They find you?”
“They seek me out,” he confirmed. “It used to happen in the schoolyard when a teacher freaked out. It doesn’t happen as much when it’s cold out.” He felt pride swell in his chest as Hermione watched him with awe. Most of the things they could do, the other one could do as well. Tom hadn’t found anything that he could do that she couldn’t. There wasn’t jealousy in her eyes. The children in the orphanage were all jealous whenever he had something they didn’t. Hermione didn’t function like them. She was happy for him. She looked just as proud of him as he felt inside. It was one of the first times he felt truly good inside.
“That’s fantastic, Tom!” She grinned at him, and it was contagious. A smile crept onto his face, and he let it stay there. “You can speak to snakes!”
“I can try to teach you, if you’d like,” he offered. Tom didn’t have much, but he had this skill, and he’d share it with her alone.
“You’d do that?” Hermione sounded awestruck. Her tone made his cheeks warm just slightly, the soft red cold air’s bite turned skin.
Tom nodded quickly. “We’ve got to stick together,” he reminded her. “It’s just us.”
“It is,” she agreed. Her smile softened, but never left.
“We can start now, if you’d like,” Tom offered. The little grass snake was still with them. It had settled onto the grass now, completely calm. He held his palm out to it, and it slid onto his hand. Its tail wrapped around his wrist loosely. It couldn’t have been longer than a foot, still very young. The snake looked from Tom to Hermione and back. They had the perfect friend to practice with.
–
Summer 1936, London
Life at Wool’s only seemed to improve for Tom and Hermione. They no longer had to ration their food–not that they had an excess of it, but there was no more falling asleep with a hungry stomach. Their rooms weren’t freezing during winter, and there were spare blankets when needed. They were the best conditions Hermione had ever lived in.
Things were looking so good that Mrs. Cole reinstated their yearly summer trip to a coastal city. It was a yearly trip that volunteers from a local church helped run. Hermione hadn’t been allowed to go the last time the trip was hosted. She had just had a nasty fight with Amy. Tom had gone that summer. From everything he had told her, the trip was the best thing that would ever happen to her.
The day of the trip, a rundown school bus pulled up in front of the orphanage. All the children old enough to attend the trip lined up outside and slowly filed into the vehicle. It didn’t matter that Hermione and Tom weren’t in the front of the line; there was a bench saved just for them to sit alone together. No one wanted to be the person stuck sitting with Tom Riddle for two hours. Well, no one besides Hermione.
Tom motioned for Hermione to enter their bench seat first. She did so, happily looking out the window. She’d never once left London, at least not that she could recall. Her time before Wool’s was very fuzzy. She didn’t remember most of it, and she preferred not to. It was gone anyways.
The bus jerked to life. In just minutes, the orphanage was out of sight. Hermione watched out the window as they slowly left London behind. She had been so excited to leave the only city she had ever known, but her stomach tied itself in knots once the familiar sights were gone. The countryside was beautiful. With the beauty came the unknown, and it unsettled her. A hand found hers. She looked away from the window to find Tom watching her curiously.
“There’s more than just London out there,” he informed her. To anyone else, the statement might’ve come across as rude. Hermione knew it was his way of soothing her. “We won’t be living there forever.”
Hermione nodded her head. She had her wild hair pulled back with a scrap piece of ribbon Mrs. Cole had given her. “There’s more than just London,” she repeated back to him before looking out her window again. She filled her lungs with a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
“I don’t plan on living in that city my whole life,” Tom informed her, “and if you’re coming with me, that means you’ll have to leave London, too.”
She let her eyes trace the grassy hills in the distance. The city was like living in greyscale, but the countryside was so alive. “Of course I’m going with you,” she said without looking away from the green. “You’re my only family.”
The hand that was on hers now gripped hers, squeezing almost too tightly. “Exactly.” It was all that needed to be said. Tom wasn’t one for affection, and Hermione wasn’t one for disclosing her feelings out loud. She lived her life doing her best to not be vulnerable.
They spent the rest of the bus ride quiet. Hermione took in the rest of the world for the first time, and Tom watched her. Once the coast was in sight, Hermione all but had her face pressed against the glass. The ocean was never ending, a deep gray on a cloudy day.
Leaving the ocean behind, the bus drove the children to the coastal town as planned. The town was settled by some cliffs that overlooked the water. All of the buildings were styled like little cottages Hermione had seen illustrated in one of her books. It didn’t seem very populated, mostly intended to draw tourists to its tiny shops.
Once the bus pulled into the parking lot and parked, the children rushed out. Mrs. Cole led the unruly group to a small park next to the lot they had parked at. It would be homebase for the day. Everyone helped lay out blankets while a volunteer did another headcount of the children. The ocean was near enough to hear, the taste of salt heavy in the air.
The volunteers began to set up the activities for the day. Tom took Hermione’s hand and led her away from the group. They walked away from the park, leaving it behind. They hadn’t even made it a block away before Hermione could hear footsteps following them.
“If it isn’t the freaky couple,” a voice called from behind them. Hermione whipped around to find Amy Benson with her hands on her hips. She was with a boy a year older than all of them, Dennis Bishop. Dennis was one of the main bullies at Wool’s. He had a habit of beating the crap out of any child half his size. His existence particularly agitated Tom, Hermione had noticed. He found brute force to be a disgusting way to establish dominance.
“Go away.” Hermione was already angry. She didn’t want her one day out of the city ruined.
“It’s okay,” Tom replied. Hermione’s eyes snapped over to him. His expression was similar to the one he pasted on when he tried to sweet talk Mrs. Cole. Instead of sounding irritated, he sounded friendly , which wasn’t something Hermione had heard before. “Did you two want to join us?”
“Join you?” Dennis scoffed at the notion. “No. Amy here told me she wants that ribbon in Hermione’s hair, and I came to get it for her.”
Hermione’s hands flew to her hair, eyes large with worry. It was one of her only nice things. “What? No–”
“How about I make you a deal?” Tom offered. He smiled at Dennis, taking one small step forward. “Remember last time we came here?” Tom waited for Dennis to nod. “Well, I discovered a secret during that trip. If you can handle it, then I’ll make Hermione give you her bow.”
“Tom!” Hermione felt her heart jump into her throat. She thought they were a team. He wouldn’t give away her ribbon, would he?
Dennis let out a snort. “If you could handle it, then I can.” Arrogance dripped off his words. He looked Tom over. “Where’s this spot?”
“I can show you,” Tom offered, gesturing down away from the park. Dennis nodded and the two began to walk away.
“I’m coming with,” Amy asserted. She caught up to Dennis’s side, who was following Tom. Hermione did the same, hurrying to be next to Tom. She glanced up at him, but he didn’t look back at her. He simply kept walking, leading the group of children farther into the little town. They passed through the small town, not stopping for any of the sights. Hermione looked at each shop window, catching their reflections. Not once was Tom looking anywhere but forward.
It didn’t take long for the four of them to reach the end of the town. Tom didn’t stop there. He continued to guide them through the outskirts, where the land soon became rocky. The grass withered away and was replaced by larger rocks. Soon, they were at the edge of what was a very large cliff. They all stood on dark rock, overlooking the sea. The roar of waves crashing against the base of the cliffs filled the air. It gave Hermione goosebumps. Before her, she could see where the sky met the ocean–what looked like the edge of the Earth. She felt so small.
“Is this it?” Dennis demanded. Hermione didn’t turn back to pay him any mind. He would be Tom’s responsibility; he had made the choice to invite the dimwit on their day out.
“Almost,” Tom promised. She caught a hint of excitement in his voice–just a fleck. Hermione wasn’t sure what Tom was up to, but she was suddenly sure she wouldn’t be losing her ribbon.
Slowly, Hermione turned to find Tom with his back to the ocean. He was facing Amy and Dennis. She watched as a smile shaped his lips. Fear flashed in Amy’s eyes for only a moment, but it was enough for Hermione to catch.
“Where are we going?” Dennis clenched his hands into fists. His already pink face turned a darker shade of red. He wasn’t the sort to be on the receiving end of harassment. Anger was building in his body.
With all the calmness in the world, Tom met his eyes and answered him. “We’re going down there.” Tom gestured behind him, over the cliff. Hermione felt her heart drop into her stomach, knowing he meant exactly what he said.
“Are you taking the piss at–” Dennis finished his sentence with a scream.
It all happened rather fast. Tom quickly grabbed Hermione’s hand and locked fingers firmly with her. While Dennis had begun to shout, Tom seemed to focus. Then, as if God had picked them up himself, all four children went flying over the edge of the cliff. Hermione and Tom’s descent was more controlled, albeit still rough. Tom landed on his feet. Hermione stumbled, but Tom’s hold on her kept her from falling over the rough rocks. Amy and Dennis landed on the same plateau below the cliffs with a thud . They hadn’t landed with the force someone would if they had jumped, but Hermione could tell Tom hadn’t been gentle with them. Tears were running down Amy’s cheeks, and Dennis looked dazed. He kept glancing around, unsure how they had gotten to sea level.
Hermione looked around. They were on a slab of dark rock. The ocean crashed against it violently, sending salt water spraying into the air. Back towards the cliffside, under where the town laid, was a cave. Between the rock they stood on and the hole in the cliffside were yards of cold sea. Hermione watched the waves meet the cliffside, exploding in sprays of water.
“Come on, Dennis.” Tom released her hand only to yank the bigger boy to his feet. “You can handle this, right?” Tom’s words were scathing. The air around them was tangible. Whatever it was they could do, it was radiating off of Tom and mixing with the salt in the air. It tasted like power.
Tom dragged both Dennis and Amy by their shirts to the edge of the plateau. They put up no fight, fear taking over their features. Amy was sputtering out some sort of plea, but Tom didn’t hesitate in his stride to hear her out. He shoved both children into the water between the rock they had landed on and the cliffside. They crashed into the water, limbs flailing against the ocean’s strength.
“See you on the other side!” He shouted to them both so they’d hear him over their own splashing. Tom turned to face Hermione, expression the most full of life she had ever seen. He held out a hand to her but didn’t make a movement towards her. “We won’t be swimming,” he promised her. The cutting edge was gone from his words. He was her Tom again while he spoke. Slowly, she walked to him and took his hand. He didn’t throw her in the ocean as he had with the other two children. Once again, his fingers laced between hers. Hermione looked from their hands up to his face. Tom was watching her curiously.
“What?” Hermione asked, ignoring the sound of Amy and Dennis swimming for their lives to the other side. She would have begun to worry about them, but with the sea came a breeze that rustled the ribbon holding all her hair back. It was a lovely reminder that maybe they should be swimming.
For possibly the first time Hermione had ever seen, Tom Riddle hesitated. “Do you…want to come with me?” His voice was just as even as ever, but the pause had given him away. Hermione simply shrugged and looked over the cliffside. The children were reaching the cavern.
“Made it this far already,” she replied. She caught a glimpse of a smile on Tom’s lips before it quickly disappeared.
As he had done before, Tom seemed to focus. The both of them levitated off the rock. They made it over the water to the cavern without dipping into the water once. They landed where the water washed up on a rocky beach – only three feet wide. Both of them stumbled but managed to stay on their feet. Behind them, Amy and Dennis dragged themselves up the same beach. Fear radiated off of them, their clothes waterlogged and weighing them down. Amy kept sputtering, coughing up salt water. Dennis turned to the side and vomited a stomach full of water. The sight made Hermione’s stomach churn. Had Tom known they could swim before throwing them in?
“This way,” Tom called back to the other two orphans without bothering to look at them.
The hole in the cliffside was a long, windy pathway into the dark. Hermione assumed the ocean had carved into the rocks over hundreds of years, paving the exact route they were walking. The tunnel was about three feet wide. They walked in a single file line, Tom leading them all as the path sloped upwards. When Hermione misstepped, she used the wall to stabilize herself. She quickly pulled her hand back, finding it had landed in something slimy that was coating the walls. As they walked, it continued to get darker. Once it was pitch black, Tom snapped his fingers. A light appeared before them, directly overhead. It lit his path, bobbing as they walked. Hermione knew Dennis and Amy were still behind her without looking back; she could hear their teeth chattering.
Eventually, the path led to a large cavern. The light flew out ahead of them, dimly illuminating a massive cavity in the cliffside. In the center of the cave was another body of water, long deposited inside the cavern and forgotten by the world. The flying light reflected off of the dark water, no bottom in sight. Tom walked them up to the edge of the water before turning back to face all three of them.
“Congratulations, you made it to your destination,” Tom announced before clasping both of his hands together in front of his chest.
“W-what the f-fuck?” Dennis snarled. It wasn’t very threatening with the rate his teeth were chattering. It might’ve been summer, but the Atlantic water that soaked his clothes was icy cold. Both him and Amy were visibly trembling. “Y-you could’ve k-killed us–”
“You’re right.” Tom’s statement was firm, his expression eerily empty. “You could’ve died, but you haven’t, yet.”
“How did you d-do all of that?” Amy’s voice came out as a shriek. Hermione could see the crazed fear in her blue eyes. They darted around the cavern, desperately looking for an escape. She didn’t have to look for herself to feel certain the only way out would be the way they had arrived.
Tom chose not to answer Amy. Instead, he shot one look at Hermione before flaring his nostrils slightly. The next sounds to leave his lips weren’t words but rather a series of hisses. Amy and Dennis automatically stepped back. Tom held his ground, letting out a hymn of snake sounds, each sounding real enough to be from an actual snake.
“What is fucking wrong with you?” Amy screamed. She placed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the sound.
More snake sounds echoed through the cavern, but none of them came from Tom’s lips. He grabbed at Hermione’s hand quickly, pulling her close to him. She stared at his mouth with wide eyes, waiting for the sounds and his lips to sync, but they didn’t.
Out from a fissure in the walls came the biggest snake Hermione had ever laid eyes on. It was easily as long as a tall man. The snake was a vivid green and black that the dim light reflected dramatically off of as it slunk along the coarse ground. With a few more encouraging hisses from Tom, the snake came to settle between the two sets of children.
Hermione did her best to stay absolutely calm. She had been doing a lot of reading on snakes because of Tom. She recognized the one that laid before them. It was a huge boomslang, a very venomous snake. She hoped with her whole soul that Tom knew what he was doing.
The snake raised its head, coming off the ground as it swayed. The little grass snake Tom had shown her had done the same movements, but it was nowhere near as terrifying. Thankfully, the boomslang was facing Amy and Dennis. Both children were frozen, both a ghostly color. The snake stuck its tongue out with a long hiss before flashing its large fangs.
Tom let out a series of hissing sounds. The boomslang struck forward at Amy and Dennis. They flew backwards onto their backs, scrambling away desperately. With its next strike–still not touching them–Amy’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. She laid motionless while Dennis continued to scramble away. The boomslang chased after him until he flew backwards and hit his head on one of the rocks jutting out of the cave wall.
With both bullies unconscious, the boomslang turned to look at Tom. Hermione kept her eyes on the snake, but she listened as Tom communicated with it. Whatever he was saying, these hisses seemed softer, less aggressive than the ones before. When the snake was directly before them again, Tom bowed his head at the creature. Hermione quickly copied his gesture. The snake seemed to nod its head to them before returning back to its home in the rocks.
Once the snake was out of sight, Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her entire body relaxed. Tom released her hand, and she turned to him. He seemed to glow in the dim light. She had never seen so much life in his eyes.
“Was all of this necessary?” were the words that decided to fall out of her mouth. Tom tightened his lips.
“Nothing else would’ve stopped them.” Irritation laced in his words. “This was my chance to get them to leave you alone for good.”
Hermione sat with his answer. She looked at her unconscious bullies, both laid out on the floor. She looked back to Tom, who truly seemed the most him she had ever seen. Her lip made its way between her teeth as she chewed on the dried skin. “Fine,” she replied shortly. “Next time, can you give me a heads up or something?”
“I can try to do that,” was the best she got from him, but she’d take it.
–
Summer 1938, London
It was a rather boring summer day for Hermione and Tom when Mrs. Cole found them in a rather unusual panic. Her sharp features worsened under her easily apparent anxiety as she flitted into Tom’s room. Hermione laid on top of Tom’s bed, Hamlet in her hands. Tom sat on the floor with his back against his bed. He had an encyclopedia on reptiles with him. They had been pouring over their books quietly, the sounds of the courtyard carrying up through the open window. It was the only source of a draft in the too-warm room.
“Hurry up, get up!” Mrs. Cole snapped at the children. Hermione sat up quickly, but Tom didn’t move an inch. He simply narrowed his eyes and glared at the older woman. “Make yourselves presentable, we’ve got a guest coming!”
It wasn’t unusual for Mrs. Cole to demand the children look presentable, but it never involved Tom. Hermione typically found herself in the clear if she was in his presence. Adults came by the orphanage occasionally, whether for funding or adoption. Tom had never been one of the children Mrs. Cole would introduce them to. She left the room as quickly as she had entered. Her footsteps echoed in the tiled hall.
Hermione set her book aside and ran her hands over her frizzy hair. “Do you think someone is coming to meet us?” She tried to not let hope seep into her words, but it was there nonetheless. She prided herself in not being as gullible as the other children. There wasn’t a magically happy family waiting for her somewhere. Still, it was hard to stifle the spark of excitement in her.
Tom slowly set his book on the floor next to him and slid it under his bed. He reached up, grabbed Hermione’s copy of Hamlet , and did the same with it. His eyes never left the open bedroom door.
“It’s got to be for me.” His words were grim. They didn’t hold the hope Hermione felt herself fighting. He spoke low, just loud enough for Hermione to hear. “They finally sent a doctor for me; that’s got to be what this is.”
For a moment, Hermione swore she saw his hands tremble before they tightened into white knuckled fists. She slid onto the floor next to him, one hand resting on his. She squeezed it tight until he looked away from the empty doorway. When his eyes met hers, they were empty. It was the closest to fear she had ever seen in him.
“It won’t be a doctor,” she told him firmly. “And if it is, we’ll run away. I won’t let them lock you up somewhere.” Her words were a promise. Tom nodded slowly before looking back to the door. He didn’t speak, yet his fists turned back to relaxed hands. At the sound footsteps coming down the hallway again, both children pulled themselves to their feet. They’d face their future together.
The person accompanying Mrs. Cole wasn’t anyone Hermione would have imagined on her own. She had a tall man with her. He had longer hair than Hermione had ever seen on a man and a beard to match–all a bright auburn. He was wearing a vivid plum velvet suit. It was easily the most luxurious clothing Hermione had ever laid eyes on. She felt her eyebrows furrow as she blinked, taking the man in. Tom, on the other hand, didn’t move at all.
“Tom, Hermione?” Mrs. Cole called to the children as they entered the room. “You’ve – err, well–both of you have a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton – sorry, Dunderbore. He’s here to talk to the both of you.” With that, the tall man entered Tom’s room. Mrs. Cole closed the door behind him, leaving the three alone. It was a small space. Tom still had the same closet of a room he had upgraded to years ago. It was the only single room now, and it was his. It was large enough to contain his single bed, a wardrobe, and a chair. The man looked around the room, taking it in.
“How do you do, Tom and Hermione?” He took a step forward and held his hand out first to Hermione.
Hermione steeled herself. She took the stranger’s hand and shook it firmly. He was gentle with her, releasing her hand only to offer it back to Tom. Tom stared into the man’s eyes for a long, silent moment before accepting the handshake. The stranger pulled up the lone chair. He settled into it. The children mimicked him, both sitting down on the creaking bed.
“I am Professor Dumbledore.” His voice was warm, a thread of kindness naturally woven into his words. It eased the anxiety building in Hermione’s chest. She could tell that it only worsened Tom’s by the way his shoulders stiffened.
“‘Professor’?” Tom repeated skeptically. He looked ready to say more, but Hermione quickly shook her head. “Are you sure you aren’t a doctor?”
“No, I’m no doctor, Tom.” The man’s words were meant to be soothing. They only agitated Tom more. Hermione fought the urge to reach for Tom’s hand. She wanted to squeeze it, to remind him to reel himself in.
“I don’t believe you,” Tom snapped. “Tell the truth!”
Hermione could feel the force behind his last three words. It was a newer talent he had found. He couldn’t make people do whatever he wanted, but he had been able to make some of the other orphans confess secrets to them. She had never been able to mimic it herself. His words flew through the air. They traveled with force, a command to a person had to obey.
But he didn’t.
“I’m telling you the truth, Tom.” The man shook his head. He was unphased. “I’m a professor at a school called Hogwarts.”
Hermione felt Tom tense up. His lips opened to speak again, but she got her words out first. “What does a professor want with us?” she asked quickly. She felt anger radiating off of Tom. She wished he didn’t give in to his own fears so easily.
“I’ve come to offer both of you a place at the school I work for.” Professor Dumbledore seemed to be choosing his words carefully, assessing both of them.
“Thank you, but we already attend school.” Hermione kept her words polite. She smiled at Professor Dumbledore.
“Ah,” he nodded, “but my school is different.” Professor Dumbledore smiled at the children with a twinkle in his eyes. “Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities–”
Tom opened his mouth to interrupt, but Hermione grabbed his hand to stop him. She shot him a quelling glance.
“--people with magic.” The last phrase changed the air in the room. Tension melted away as Hermione squeezed Tom’s hand so hard it must’ve hurt. Magic. The answer to so much of their lives, wrapped up in one little word. She could feel Tom’s stiffness still, but a smile lit up her own face.
“Magic?” Hermione repeated. The word left her mouth quietly for fear of the dream not coming true. “That’s what we can do?”
“That’s right,” Dumbledore nodded to her. His eyes met hers, and she could see he was telling the truth. It felt right. “There’s a place for both of you at Hogwarts this September, if you’d like to join us.”
The excitement inside her began to dim as reality set in. Her shoulders slumped as she pasted on a polite smile for the kind man. “Thank you, but we don’t have the money for a special school.”
“There’s no need to worry about that,” Dumbledore promised her. “There’s a stipend specifically for students in your situation. Some of your books may come used, but they’ll all be yours nonetheless.”
“This is real?” Tom asked abruptly. Hermione let herself look at him. She could see the ice melting as the idea settled. “You aren’t here to take me to the asylum?” His words came out rough, but Hermione could see the cogs in his head turning. Nothing this good ever happened to them.
Professor Dumbledore looked at Tom for a moment too long for Hermione’s taste. “I have no interest in locking you up someplace, Mr. Riddle.”
“We won’t be locked up at your school?” Tom countered quickly.
The professor let out a lighthearted chuckle. “No, no you won’t be. There are gates at Hogwarts and a curfew, but the grounds are quite large. Once you’re older, you can even go on outings to local wizarding towns on weekends.”
Hermione could feel her mind spinning. She couldn’t keep up with all the new information he was revealing. “There are towns just for wizards?” She paused. “Are we wizards? Are you one, too?” She spoke fast–maybe too fast–but she was thrilled to have answers.
“There are plenty of places just for wizards and witches,” the professor explained. “Mr. Riddle and I here are both wizards. You, my dear, are a witch. There are lots of us in this world.” He paused, taking in both the children. “Am I to assume you are accepting your places at Hogwarts?”
“We are!” Hermione answered for them both eagerly. The professor let out a soft chuckle.
“If that is so, it’ll be best if you address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir’.” He turned to Tom. “What about you, Mr. Riddle?”
“I accept.” Tom’s tone was much grimmer than Hermione’s. He had always been more wary of kindness than Hermione had been.
“Excellent!” Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands together. “I will be back here at this same time next week to take the both of you shopping for your school supplies. After that, you’ll be picked up a few days later for term. How does that sound?”
“Perfect, sir,” she said quickly. She felt herself beaming. Even Tom managed a bit of a smile. No one had ever taken them out shopping before. Excitement bubbled in Hermione’s chest.
With that, Professor Dumbledore stood. He smiled down at both the children. The more Hermione stared at him, the more magical he seemed. She had never seen a man in such a colorful suit, tiny gold embellishments of stars and moons along the cuffs. Something about him screamed that he didn’t fit in, just like they didn’t. His existence soothed her soul.
“I’ll be seeing the two of you in a week.” He nodded his head to them both. “I’ll see myself out.” He paused. His smile faded slightly. “Try not to get in too much trouble until then, yes?”
Hermione nodded quickly in response, but Tom simply stared at him. The professor must’ve taken that as an acceptable answer. He let himself out of Tom’s room, quietly closing the door behind him. Both children listened as his footsteps faded away down the hallway. Once she knew they were alone, she turned to look at Tom. The tension in the room had dwindled. He looked thoughtful, considering what had occurred.
“Well?” she demanded excitedly. She smiled at him and waited.
“We won’t have to live here anymore,” was the first thought he shared. It hurt Hermione’s heart. The relief in having answers about their life wasn’t greater than the relief that would come from a better home. It was the truth of their lives.
“We won’t,” she agreed quietly. Her excitement eased to a manageable level. The last thing she needed was to overwhelm him. “It’s magic. We can do magic!”
His eyes darted around his small room. “I don’t think we should discuss this where Mrs. Cole might hear us.” Tom’s paranoia in the previous year had escalated. He had managed to convince himself that Mrs. Cole was planning to send him away.
Hermione stood. She held a hand out to Tom, which he accepted. “How about you try teaching me to talk to snakes again?” It was easily his favorite pastime, besides reading. She could barely imitate him successfully, and it rarely got a response out of any snake. Hermione was determined to understand their little language.
The offer worked. A fire lit in Tom’s eyes. He stood, and the two left to practice what they now knew was magic.
–
Summer 1938, Diagon Alley
The next week passed quickly. Hermione dressed in the best clothes she owned, albeit the dress was still a little too short, and her mary janes were scuffed. Tom dressed to impress as well. He wouldn’t admit it to Hermione, but she could tell he was excited. She had watched him stare at his own reflection in his bedroom window, combing his hair over and over. Neither of them addressed it. She simply stood by his side and patted down her curls one more time.
Professor Dumbledore was a timely man. At exactly the same time he had arrived the week prior, there was a knock at the front door of Wool’s Orphanage. Instead of waiting up in Tom’s room for Mrs. Cole to escort the professor to them, both children had decided to wait in the entryway. At the sound of his knock, Hermione eagerly pulled the door open. Standing on the same doorstep she had been abandoned on was Professor Dumbledore, the key to her new world. He wore another subtly magical suit. This one was a deep royal blue, fitting nicely to his frame. His shoes were a bright shade of purple, and his hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. He felt magical.
“Greetings, Miss Granger,” he looked past her to greet Tom, “and Mr. Riddle. It’s a pleasure to see you both again.”
Hermione stuck her hand out before Dumbledore could, ready for another handshake. Professor Dumbledore chuckled quietly and accepted the enthusiastic gesture. From behind, Tom stepped forward. He stood as tall as he could, his chin held high. He offered his hand out to shake as well. The professor locked eyes with him for just a moment too long before accepting.
“Right, then, let’s get going, shall we?” With that, he turned and began walking down the street Hermione assumed he had taken to arrive.
“We can walk there?” Tom asked skeptically. They both hurried after the professor. They walked a few steps behind him, letting him guide them.
“Yes, you can.” The professor shot them a smile over his shoulder. His eyes twinkled just as they had the first time they met. “Magic can do wonderful things, Tom. It can hide whole worlds in plain sight.”
Neither child responded to his statement. Hermione let the statement settle over her. Her mind spun, imagining how one could hide anything from plain sight, let alone an entire world. Next to her, Tom was trying to look unimpressed.
They walked through the streets of London for close to half an hour. Hermione had a thousand questions to ask. Not a single one made it to her lips. She wasn’t sure if talking about magic in the busy streets they walked was appropriate or allowed. She didn’t know any of the rules now.
“Ah,” Dumbledore broke the silence, “here we are.” He gestured to a building before them. It was a grimy-looking pub settled between a record shop and a bookstore. The people around them walked past it, in and out of the other two stores, but never glanced at the pub Dumbledore was gesturing to. “This is the Leaky Cauldron.” He held the door open, and both children hurried in.
The inside matched the exterior. It was dark despite all the windows. A coat of dust covered most of the surfaces Hermione could see. An odd-looking man worked behind the bar, making a drink for the one patron sitting at it. He looked up to greet them. When he noticed the professor, he shot a toothy grin in their direction.
“Morning, Albus!” The bartender seemed to notice the children right then. “Working that is?”
“Indeed,” Professor Dumbledore replied with a smile. “I’ll stop by this evening, maybe.”
He only got a nod in response, but Dumbledore seemed pleased with it. The professor led both children out another set of doors to a walled-in courtyard. Tom made a face at the full trash bins around them. Before he could question where they were, Professor Dumbledore pulled a wand out of his sleeve. Hermione felt her breath catch in her chest. She had spent a lot of time thinking over the concept of magic in the past week. The idea of wands had occurred to her, but to see one was different.
“Do we get one of those?” Hermione asked hurriedly, trying to get the words out before she missed the opportunity. From the glint in Tom’s dark eyes, she knew he needed to know as well.
“This? Yes, wands are on the shopping list today,” Professor Dumbledore confirmed. Her heart began to race in her chest.
“And that’s how we do magic?” she inquired.
“For the most part, yes.” Dumbledore turned to face them both. “There are other aspects to it all as well. From both of your experiences with it thus far, you’ve been doing magic without the presence of a wand.”
“So we don’t need one?” Tom interjected.
“You do need one. It helps you focus and control your magic. You both have access to magic without a wand, it just won’t be as concise.” When it was clear his answer seemed to appease both of the orphans, Professor Dumbledore turned back to one specific brick wall. From there, he tapped a series of bricks with the tip of his wand. A quiet rumbling began. It grew from inside the wall. The bricks shook; dust scattered to the floor. Hermione took a cautious step back as the wall began to open, bricks turning away into a doorway.
As if he saw similar performances every day, Professor Dumbledore motioned for them to follow him through the doorway. Once they were all through it, the bricks closed back behind them. Hermione stared at them in bewilderment.
“And this, this is Diagon Alley. The shops here possess everything you will need during your time at Hogwarts.” Hermione could hear the awe in his voice even though she knew he must’ve been to that same location hundreds of times. She understood it. Before her was a street packed with shops, each more magical than the next. They were painted fun colors, each one with moving displays in the windows.
From there, the professor pulled out a list of needed school supplies. They worked from the top down. Professor Dumbledore brought them to a shop with the name Ollivander’s across its sign. Inside was a peculiar man with long, wavy hair. He greeted them with a bright smile and a polite nod to the professor.
“Greetings, Mr. Ollivander. We’re here today to get two wands for some first year students.” He motioned to Tom and Hermione. Mr. Ollivander beamed at them both and stepped out from behind his counter.
“Well, hello there.” He eyed both children for a moment. “Let’s start with you, yes? Ladies first. What’s your name?” Mr. Ollivander gestured to Hermione who blushed slightly.
“I’m Hermione Granger,” she told him quietly.
“What a lovely name, Miss Granger.” Mr. Ollivander moved over to one wall full of boxes. He began to dig through them, his movements slightly erratic. He came back with a wand in his hand. “This one has unicorn hair as a core! It’s made with ash wood. Here, take it.”
Hermione stared at the wand in his hands. With great caution, Hermione took the wand from him. Mr. Ollivander made a motion with his hand, and she mimicked it. In a flash of white light, the inkwell on his counter exploded. Hermione dropped the wand and clasped both hands over her mouth.
“I am so sorry!” she cried out. Tom had moved closer to her, on high alert.
“That’s quite alright, Miss Granger,” Mr. Ollivander waved her off and picked up the wand. He set to work replacing it in its box and returning to his search. “Some wands simply don’t get along with some people. It’s the nature of my business.” He fussed at a wall filled with tiny boxes for another moment before pulling out a new wand. Quickly, he placed it in Hermione’s hand. “Let’s try this, shall we?”
Hermione mimicked the motion he had made earlier. A sad whistle sound left the tip of the wand. Mr. Ollivander let out a hearty chuckle at the sound and snatched his wand back. “Unicorn hair does not like you, Miss Granger.”
“I’m sorry?” she asked. Her mind couldn’t fully process the phrase he used. Were unicorns real as well? What other beings existed in their world if magic was real?
“All wands have cores,” Mr. Ollivander explained, shouting over his shoulder. He had made his way deeper into his shop, digging through boxes yet again. “Each wand is crafted differently, with a different combination of a core, a wood, and the length.”
“Wand making is an ancient craft,” Professor Dumbledore filled them in. He still stood behind the two children. “Mr. Ollivander’s family has been in the business for quite some time.”
“Indeed!” Mr. Ollivander returned. He cradled a wand gently in his hand before placing it into Hermione’s awaiting one. “This one was crafted from vine wood. It has a dragon heartstring core.”
She didn’t miss the look exchanged between the professor and the wand maker. Hermione weighed the wand in her hand. It felt, well, perfect. She flicked her wrist as Mr. Ollivander had initially told her to. The room filled with a brilliant white light. Her hair hummed with energy as it had only a few times in her life. The wand felt like an extension of her arm. It was as if it had been waiting for her.
“Perfect,” Mr. Ollivander murmured. He clasped his hands together. “We have found the wand for you, Miss Granger. Congratulations!”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Ollivander,” Hermione replied quickly. Her wide eyes stayed focused on the wand in her hand, not bothering to look over at him.
Mr. Ollivander moved on to Tom now. “Now, to the very patient gentleman.” He smiled at Tom, who seemed to appreciate the attention. “What is your name, young man?”
“Tom Riddle,” Tom told the wizard proudly. Hermione lowered her wand to watch their interaction.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Ollivander replied before wandering away to a wall of wands. He dug around wildly. It only took a moment for him to return with a wand. He had a wild look in his eyes, excitement obvious. With a quick look to the professor, he grinned at Tom. “This wand here is made of yew. Its core is a phoenix feather.” Carefully, Mr. Ollivander held the wand out to Tom.
Hermione eyed the wand Tom picked up. It was much lighter in color than hers. After turning the wand over in his hand, Tom flicked his wrist just as Hermione had. The room lit up beautifully. She had never seen his face so bright. A smile took over as his own hair blew away from its carefully brushed placement. Tom stared at the wand in his hand with such intensity that Hermione felt her chest ache.
“On your first try!” Mr. Ollivander sounded proud. “Congratulations, my boy. That is a beautifully crafted wand. It is rare to have a phoenix give up a feather for wand crafting. It’s a special wand you have.”
Tom looked up at Mr. Ollivander and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Ollivander.” Hermione could tell it was his practiced-polite voice. Tom was far off somewhere else.
Professor Dumbledore stepped around the children. “I shall be the one paying for those.” A warm smile was resting on his face. It left the impression that they had done well, which was all Hermione wanted. He met Mr. Ollivander at the store’s counter and pulled a velvet pouch out of his pocket. From within it, the professor pulled out coins that were foreign to Hermione. She had seen very little money from other countries, but nothing about these coins was familiar. Mr. Dumbledore counted out an amount and handed over the payment.
“Pleasure doing business with you as always, Dumbledore,” Mr. Ollivander thanked him with a nod. The coins went into a register that looked unlike any Hermione had laid eyes on. With that, the professor turned and guided the children out of the store.
The rest of their shopping in Diagon Alley was a blur. Between getting fitted for robes and acquiring textbooks, the majority of their day was spent hopping from one store to another. In each one, the shopkeepers recognized Professor Dumbledore. They all greeted him excitedly and with much respect. It left an impression on Hermione, while it only seemed to intrigue Tom. Hermione asked as many questions as she could think of, but Tom kept to himself during their time out.
The sun was setting when Professor Dumbledore brought them back to the steps of Wool’s Orphanage. Disappointment swept through Hermione. Their day out had made her forget about their sad home. Hermione eyed the front door warily, not wanting to enter.
“Before I leave,” the professor called for their attention. His eyes quickly swept their surroundings. It was clear of witnesses. “I want to be clear that neither of you are to use your wands. Underage magic is a very serious offense.”
“How would you know if we did?” Tom asked too quickly. Hermione held in the urge to sigh loudly. It was a fair question, but his attitude was getting to her.
Professor Dumbledore eyed Tom. “The Ministry of Magic–our governing body–receives notifications when underage wizards or witches perform magic. It is only allowed in life or death situations. I highly doubt any of those shall cross your path.” With one hand, Dumbledore patted his auburn beard. “I will be back in two days time to escort you both to King’s Cross Station. From there, you’ll board a train that will take you to Hogwarts. While you are at school, you can perform as much magic as you wish. I’m asking you to wait two more days.”
He was looking directly at Tom as he spoke. It took a moment as Tom mulled over his words. With a nod, Tom agreed to the professor’s request. Hermione felt her whole body relax. Tom had never been so difficult before.
“Perfect,” Professor Dumbledore clasped his hands together. “Alright, go on in with your items. Don’t let the other child look through your trunks, understand? I shall be back here at this doorstep in two days, at eight.”
Hermione nodded, and Tom followed suit. They each picked up their own trunks and lumbered inside with them. There was a loud crack! behind them. Tom whipped around and stared, mouth open. Hermione followed his line of sight; Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. She quickly locked eyes with Tom. There was so much wonder in his eyes. He had had a wall up the entire day, but now it was gone. Hermione could see his excitement, his relief . They were special. They belonged somewhere. They could be important, just like Professor Dumbledore, if they wanted. Everything was beginning to look up.