Chapter Text
Tom sat in the dark of the bomb shelter nearest the orphanage. The sounds of children sniffing, coughing, and crying echoed off the cement walls. The rumbling vibrations of planes passing overhead and bombs landing in the distance rattled the infrastructure. In his hands he held an envelope. He gripped it tightly, holding onto the security it promised, a promise of a better world away from the hardship, fear, and hunger of the muggle war. The envelope was thicker than in past years. The curiosity of what it contained burned at him. He longed to open the letter, read the magic it contained, see with his own eyes the truth that Hogwarts was real, that magic was real, that it wasn’t all a fantastic recurring fever dream he’d invented to escape the living nightmare of his muggle life. But he was patient. He’d been through this before, he’d get through it again, and maybe this year, maybe this year he could convince Slughorn or Dippett or Dumbledore to let him stay at Hogwarts over the summer. Let him be safe and secure in the magical world that was his blood right, his heritage. Maybe this would be the year he’d find the answer to his burning question, to immortality, so that if he did have to return to this god forsaken orphanage he wouldn’t have to fear dying from the bombings, dying alone and powerless in a muggle war without the aid of magic to protect or comfort him.
When the sirens rang the ‘all clear’ the matron lead him and the other children back to the orphanage where they found it relatively unscathed. They all went to bed without dinner, rations were few and the last delivery of food had been intercepted and never arrived. But Tom was used to hunger at this point. It was a familiar feeling, a reminder that he still lived. Pain only affirmed that he was still alive. Tom lay down in his lumpy cot in a shared boy’s dormitory and curled into himself under a threadbare blanket. He pulled out the envelope with unsteady hands and opened it in the safety of his bed. He pulled out the letter with his fifth year book list and a note informing him that his head of house would be arriving in a week’s time to bring him to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies. That was new. Slughorn had never made the effort to bring him supply shopping in previous years, he’d had to find his way to the Leaky in London on his own, even as a tiny eleven-year-old firstie. He wondered what was different this year. Perhaps they finally realized how dangerous this muggle war was and that it wasn’t safe for Tom to be out on his own. This could mean there was hope for him staying at Hogwarts next summer, or at least staying somewhere that wasn’t muggle London during the blitz.
There was something else in the envelope and his heart rate quickened as he pulled out the little badge. A prefect badge. He felt a warm glow in his chest. He had worked so hard to be recognized by his peers and by Slughorn. Him, a no-name orphan, a muggleborn nobody, clueless and directionless in the house of snakes. He’d had to work twice as hard as everyone else to prove himself, he’d had to be twice as viscious to his housemates and twice as good in his classes to gain any respect or recognition from his peers. And here it was, proof that it had all payed off. Him, a muggle raised no-name nobody, Slytherin prefect. The gratification made his chest swell and his throat tightened. He would do this, he would become somebody important, make a name for himself, prove to the world that he was more than capable of greatness regardless of his background, blood status, and parentage. He was smart, he was powerful, he was ambitious, and he had endured through more hardship than his silver-spoon-fed housemates could ever imagine. There was no possibility that he wouldn’t become someone great in the magical world. He would prove his place, he would carve out a space by hand if he had to and make somewhere he belonged in the magical world, somewhere he could truly call home, and he would leave the nightmares of the muggle world behind.
The week dragged by but soon enough it was Saturday again and Tom eagerly awaited his visit from Slughorn. He had informed the matron that the professor would be coming to get him today and he couldn’t wait to be back in the magical world, if even for a short while. He reviewed the supply list, it was fairly standard, but it called for quite a few new potions supplies. New ingredients were to be expected but it called for some other interesting items like a leaded glass cauldron and crystal stirring rods, more safety gear, and a new textbook by an author he’d never heard of. He’d read the upper year potions books already so he was a little disappointed to have to acquaint himself with a new book and likely a new method. Slughorn was a generally lazy man and very ingrained in his ways, so he wondered why he would bother changing the curriculum so unexpectedly.
A young boy came running up to his cot, Tom didn’t know the lad’s name as the orphanage had acquired many new children while he was away at Hogwarts.
“Missus Matron says to get you mister Tom!”
“Thank you lad,”
The boy shifted on his dirty bare feet and Tom rolled his eyes, pulling a hard candy from his pocket and handing it to the boy.
The child beamed a gap-toothed smile and ran off. Tom had found the bribery with candy was a good way to get the younger children, and even some of the older ones, on his side to minimize the harassment he had dealt with in is earlier years. With most of the kids in his favor it was harder for the other kids to get away with bullying him. Now of course most of the older kids from his youth who were still around were afraid of him due to his past outbursts of accidental magic.
When Tom stepped into the matron’s office he stopped in his tracks. He had been expecting the colorful, portly form of Slughorn, but instead there stood a dark, lean figure clad in a long black trenchcoat. The madame looked nervous and Tom could understand why. The man wore a surly expression, as if he were on the edge between anger and boredom and stood with an imperious air.
“This man says he’s a professor Snape from your school, he’ll be bringing you shopping in London today.”
Tom hesitated just a moment, before nodding his head, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Tom Riddle.”
“Severus Snape.” The man responded with barely a tip of the head, his dark eyes fixed on Tom, studying him shrewdly.
“Oh, you don’t know each other?” The matron asked warily.
“I have just been hired this summer, I will be taking over Professor Slughorn’s duties as head of house.”
“I see. And is Professor Slughorn well?” Tom inquired. “I had not heard that he was planning to retire.”
“The professor is as well as ever. An opportunity arose abroad which he simply would not refuse.” The professor said with just the slightest note of disdain, “I have been chosen to take his place.”
“Well, if that’s all set then why don’t you boys be off! Better to get your shopping done while it’s still daylight,” the matron interjected.
“Yes, come along, Mr. Riddle.”
Tom followed the professor’s dark form out of the orphanage, studying him from behind. The man’s coat was clean and simple, utilitarian as opposed to the gaudy fashions Slughorn preferred. His dress and gait boasted neither wealth nor status, yet he still struck an imposing figure that commanded respect. His stride was decisive, self-assured, and somehow elegant. He appeared to be a man dedicated wholly to his craft, unconcerned with the trivialities of society and politics. His figure was tall and lean, genuinely fit in comparison to Slughorns loafing form. In the light of day it was clear that he was much younger than his imposing stature would imply. He must be in his twenties, making him quite skilled indeed to be a qualified professor at such a young age. The man’s face was not conventionally handsome but it was striking, with his pale skin and dark eyes and long black hair tied into a neat tail at the base of his neck. He had a prominent nose which could generously be deemed Romanesque, and high, aristocratic cheekbones that gave him a unique and memorable appearance. His eyebrows could stand to be tamed and his teeth would benefit from orthodontic charms, and he would benefit from more fat in his cheeks, but there was something riveting about his appearance in its distinctiveness.
“If you are done gawking, you may proceed to take my arm so that we may apparrate”
Tom stiffened at being caught so obviously staring, “My apologies, professor, you simply have a uniquely handsome face.” He simpered, taking the man’s arm. It was firm and strong under his fingers. Flattery generally worked well with authority figures, it certainly had for old Sluggy.
“Unlike your previous professor, I am not favorably inclined towards obsequious toadying and you’ll find that I’m particularly adverse to liars.” The professor bit out in a cold, dark monotone.
Tom felt a shudder of appreciation for just a moment before his body was wrenched away from the corporeal world and he was sent whirling through space. Apparition! Some warning would have been appreciated!
He wheezed as he felt the earth crash into his feet and he stumbled, stomach lurching but too empty to offer anything up. The professor had immediately released him upon landing, not bothering to offer so much as a steadying hand. Unbalanced, Tom barely caught himself before falling to the ground and looked up to see the steady and unruffled form of his professor. There couldn’t be many years between them yet this man had mastered haughty stoicism to a degree Tom could only aspire to. In his dizziness the proud man with his dark hair and coat and deep penetrating eyes was indeed the most handsome creature he’d ever laid eyes upon. He met those eyes squarely and allowed the faint tug of a smile at his lips.
“I wasn’t lying at all, sir.”
The professor’s look hardened and Tom felt the faintest of touches over his surface thoughts before the man blinked, hiding a look of surprise, and turned to leave the apparition point. Tom stared after him baffled. Legillimency? Really? This man was more intriguing than ever. In that moment he felt truly thankful to Slughorn for abandoning his post.
They left the narrow alley of the apparition point and stepped out into the colorful, bustling cobbled road of diagon alley. Cheerful witches and wizards bustled about in their jewel toned robes and pointed hats, carefree and untroubled by the muggle war that battered the world just beyond the wards. Tom ached with longing and envy. He’d have to return after their shopping trip today and already he dreaded it.
“Let us acquire your books first. I assume you need to visit the bank?”
“Yes, sir,” Tom replied.
The bank was large and stately and guarded by surly goblins as always. The professor strode past them and into the lobby with an air of no-nonsense certitude and proceeded to address the goblin teller in a similarly respectful but perfunctory way.
“Hogwarts scholarship fund,” The goblin teller verified, “right then, bleed here.” The goblin demanded, producing a small blade and sliding over a piece of parchment.
“Excuse me?” The professor asked, which was good because Tom was not a little bit disconcerted.
“New safety precautions,” The goblin growled, showing her many pointed teeth in a feral sort of grin.
“You won’t mind if I test and sterilize the blade.” Professor Snape said cooly, wand already in hand and casting spells on the blade in question.
The goblin sniffed but did not protest. After an impressively thorough examination and cleansing the blade was offered to Tom who took it reluctantly but cut his thumb without a flinch. The bloodied parchment was returned to the teller who stamped it with something and fed it through some kind of machine that spat out another piece of parchment.
“I trust you can manage the healing spell yourself,” the Professor stated, but he held his wand at the ready nonetheless.
Tom smiled beatifically and cast a silent episky to close the wound.
“Will you be visiting your other vaults today, Mister Riddle?” The goblin asked, holding the small sheet of parchment from the machine.
Tom straightened, “I wasn’t aware I had access to other vaults, ma’am, but I should like to know more about them.”
The teller snorted, “Says here you have two other vaults, though one may not be accessible until you come of age. Would you like to speak with an account manager?” The goblin smiled a predatory grin showing all of her teeth.
While disconcerting, Tom did very much want to speak to an account manager, but he wasn’t sure his Professor would accommodate him. He cast a charming and hopeful glance towards his Professor, who seemed to be taking in the scene with stony tolerance.
“We will have to return another time as we have other errands to attend to this day.” The professor interjected.
“And you are?” The goblin sneered.
Professor Snape bristled, “Severus Snape, professor and potions master of Hogwarts, you may call me Master Snape.”
The goblin snorted, “Are you his guardian?”
“I am his head of house and acting in loco parentis .“
“Bleed here,” the teller grinned toothily, sliding over another slip of parchment and the blade.
This time the professor only cast a quick sterilization charm before cutting his palm and healing it a moment later with a flick of his hand, both wordlessly and wandlessly. Tom did not miss the slight glance the professor shot him nor the thin smirk on the man’s lips.
Once again the parchment was stamped and fed into the machine.
“And would you like to speak with an account manager today, Mister Snape?” The goblin asked jeeringly.
“That’s Master or Professor. And for which account might that be,” The professor shot back facetiously.
“Which indeed, you only have two.”
The professor frowned, eyes narrowing.
“I will return at a later date to settle this matter. For now, we require the fifth year Hogwarts scholarship amount.”
“As you say. Wands,” the goblin demanded, holding out her knobby green hands.
“What ever for?”
“Magical verification,” the goblin said, smiling faux sweetly.
“You’ve already taken our blood,” The professor disputed in irritation.
Tom watched them go on with amusement. The professor had not the slightest bit of charm to smooth his way through the negotiation and it was clear the goblin was enjoying riling the man up. Finally the professor slapped his wand onto the counter and indicated for Tom to do the same.
“And how much will you be withdrawing today?”
“One-hundred galleons.” The professor snapped.
“Very well. There will be a fifteen percent withdrawal fee.”
“Since when-“
Tom cut in before the professor lost his temper entirely, “Master teller, I do believe the withdrawal fee is waived for scholarship students.” Tom asserted sweetly but firmly. In truth, there was no withdrawal fee, the goblin was simply having too much fun heckling the professor.
The goblin eyed him shrewdly, “Ten percent.”
Tom maintained his smile without replying, showing his teeth in a goblin-esque way and gripping his Professor’s sleeve to prevent him from intervening.
Finally the goblin barked out a rusty laugh and produced a pouch. “One-hundred galleons.” She stated.
“You won’t mind if I count them,” the professor retorted sourly, dumping out the contents of the pouch and sorting them into neat stacks of ten. There was indeed exactly one-hundred coins and if Tom was not mistaken, the Professor looked slightly disappointed at being denied the opportunity to berate the teller for short-changing them.
“Thank you Master Teller, I hope to return later this week to settle the matter of my vaults,” Tom stated respectfully with a flash of teeth and hurried out of the bank before the professor started up again.
Outside the bank Tom turned to the professor ruefully, “You mustn’t let them bait you like that. They love riling up wizards. There’s a very particular way to deal with them.”
“I have no patience for such a thing,” the Professor groused, looking thoroughly ruffled.
“I would like to return soon to see to my vaults, I honestly was not aware I had any.” Tom said hopefully. Another trip to Diagon Alley, preferably with his fascinating new professor, would be a welcome respite from the orphanage.
“I too have matters to discuss with them.” The professor muttered darkly. “I’m afraid we’ll be back before the week is out.”
Tom held back a delighted grin. No need to be too effusive, after all.