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In one world Albus Dumbledore arrives at Wool’s Orphanage in his plum colored velvet suit, plies its matron with gin, and chooses to believe the worst of one Tom Marvolo Riddle before he ever lays eyes on the boy. That initial interaction colors every subsequent meeting with suspicion and distrust, and while the creation of Lord Voldemort isn’t entirely Albus’s fault, he certainly didn’t help the situation.
In another world, Albus knocks on the door of Wool’s and is mildly alarmed to hear shrill screams, faintly, muffled through the solid wood. When the door does open, it’s not a child but Mrs. Cole herself, and she’s visibly disturbed.
“Can I help you?” Her lips are pursed in distaste as she scans the plum velvet.
Albus smiles, “I certainly hope so. I have an appointment to meet with the young Mr. Riddle about an opportunity to attend a prestigious boarding school.”
Mrs. Cole’s lips somehow tighten further, “I’m afraid Tom is not available at the moment.” She glances over her shoulder, and, as if on cue, another shriek can be heard.
Albus grew up in a time of corporal punishment and stern discipline for children, but the sounds coming from down the hall of the orphanage do not sound like those elicited from a firm hand. They sound like someone is being hurt quite badly.
He inserts his foot into the threshold so she can’t close the door in his face and puts on what his mother described as his scheming smile, “I’m afraid I must insist.”
Mrs. Cole blusters and wrings her hands and explains Tom has another appointment today. The church which claims to serve those poor souls entrusted to Wool’s dubious care had a visiting priest stop by. A priest who was greatly disturbed to hear tales of an orphan who was seen speaking to snakes. A priest who is meeting with Tom right now.
Albus doesn’t wait to hear any more. His long legs make quick work of the dimly lit hallway. He doesn’t require directions, following the screams and increasingly loud chanting.
Rounding the corner, he sees a crowd of children huddled around one door in particular and knows he’s found Tom’s room. Albus channels the same stern tone he takes with his recalcitrant NEWT students, “Back to your rooms!” he says sharply. The children scatter.
Albus takes his wand in hand and opens the door quickly. There’s a child strapped down to a bed, little more than a cot, secured at his wrists, ankles, and across his abdomen. Looming over the child is a large man with striking white hair, he has a crucifix in one hand and a knife in the other. The boy is writhing continuously and hissing furiously. The priest looks over his shoulder, makes eye contact with Albus, then locking in on his wand and gasps.
Moving quickly, Albus stuns the priest with a nonverbal stupefy and binds him from shoulder to knees with a muttered incarcerous. The priest slumps back against the drab tiled wall, there isn’t even enough room for him to fall over in a satisfactory manner.
Albus turns his attention to the young Mr. Riddle and sees that what he thought was a strap around his stomach is actually a limp black adder. Tom is frozen, staring at Albus in disbelief.
“Did you kill him?”
Albus kicks the priest in one of his exposed shins. The restrained man grunts but remains unconscious. “He’ll live.” He takes a slow step towards Tom. “I’m going to remove these straps, alright Tom? Is your snake alright?”
Tom hisses at the small black snake, which seems to be alive, if moving sluggishly. “He tried to pour rat poison down her throat but she wriggled away and it bounced off her scales. He was squeezing her so tight, she was scared and played dead.”
Tom rubs his wrists as Albus loosens the restraints with a quick wave of his wand and sits up quickly, cradling the snake in his hands.
Albus turns around to see a small desk and chair, and sits down to catch his breath. Not many muggleborns belong to families who are enthused about their child’s strangeness being explained as magical, but this is the first time he’s come to deliver a Hogwarts letter and found an exorcism in progress.
He watches for a moment as Tom holds the snake up to his face, hisses briefly, and then drapes her around his neck. Tom strokes her tail gently and stares at the priest tied up on the floor before making eye contact with Albus.
“So you’re special too, then?” His eyes dip down to Albus’s wand, resting gently on his thigh.
“Yes, I’m special too. We’re both wizards, Tom. We’ve rather gotten off track from how these meetings typically go. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I’m here to invite you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He kicks the priest in the shin again. “Running into a witch hunter is actually quite unusual in this day and age, but we guard the secret of magic closely to prevent reactions like this one. I’ll have to call someone out from the Ministry to take care of him. Actually, might as well do that now. Who knows how long he’ll stay stunned.” Albus casts his patronus and directs the phoenix to Bob Ogden at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Tom looks covetously at the silvery bird as it whooshes through the wall. “How long will it take for me to do magic like that?”
Albus smiles, “Patroni are taught in seventh year defense, but if you have an interest in charms, there is a club where you can get extra practice in with the oversight of the professor. You may be able to advance more quickly if you apply yourself.”
Tom nods sharply. “What other kinds of magic can you do?”
Albus outlines the first year curriculum and the electives available to older years. “Tom, you said you knew you were special. Have you done any magic before?”
Tom runs his hand along his snake’s tail and glances over at the still unconscious priest before nodding quickly. “I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt if I want.” His voice trails off. “The priest caught me by surprise when he found Eve. He had me tied up before I could do anything.” His dark brown eyes are blazing, “I can’t be caught by surprise again. Can Hogwarts teach me how to protect myself, and Eve?”
The confession of making bad things happen to people who are mean to him might have seemed more sinister to Albus if he hadn’t witnessed with his own eyes how the woman charged with taking care of Tom had let a grown man strap him to bed and try to kill his pet. “Yes, Hogwarts will teach you to protect yourself. While making people hurt, as you say, is generally not our preferred approach, you always have the right to defend yourself.” Albus closes his eyes, thinking of a small blonde girl. “Has something like this happened before?” He gestures lazily at the priest, perking up slightly when he hears a loud pop, like a car backfiring.
Tom explains how Billy Stubbs, Amy Benson, and Dennis Bishop caught him speaking to a snake in the back garden the year before. How Billy in particular seemed to thrill when Mrs. Cole ordered the groundskeeper and handyman to whack its head off with a shovel. How he’d stolen small things from them in retaliation as they tripped him in the halls, and complained to the strict nuns who taught at the parish school. How they whispered things like “freak,” and “devil spawn” when he walked past.
Eve had found her way into the shed in the back garden, and he’d tried to send her away but got caught speaking to her in the attempt. This was the last straw for Mrs. Cole, who contrary to what she’d told Albus on the way in, was the one to request the traveling exorcist be brought back from his mission to South America specifically to “deal with” Tom.
There’s a sharp knock at the door, and Albus smiles briefly at the boy before rising to open it. Bob Ogden looks at the scene before him skeptically, “what exactly have you gotten yourself into now, Albus?”
The professor sighs before explaining that he’ll need the priest and the matron obliviated. Bob gets his wand out. “Right then, how long was he here trying to exorcise you, boy?”
Tom winces, and responds quietly, “At least two hours. He came straight here after mass, and I heard the bell for lunch not long before Mr. Dumbledore arrived.”
Bob curses under his breath. “Religious muggles are the worst ones. At least they don’t usually try to burn us anymore.”
Albus sighs. “I think you’d better scrub back further. Who knows how long ago Mrs. Cole wrote to him.” Bob nods.
“Bob?” Albus knows he needs to play this carefully.
“Yes, Albus?” Bob is focused on the priest. “Could you give me five more minutes with Tom before we take care of the obliviations?”
The short man huffs and agrees, stepping back into the hall. Albus and Tom can hear him shushing Mrs. Cole.
Albus looks back at Tom. “Do you want Mrs. Cole to remember you?”
Tom looks shocked, briefly, before his gaze turns calculating. “If she doesn’t remember me, do I have to come back?”
“My boy, this is no fit place for a magical child. You can become a ward of Hogwarts, and we can look into your family history. It’s possible you have some magical relatives. But even if you don’t, there may be families willing to foster you.”
With his eyes screwed up tight and his knees bent close to his chest, Tom looks very small and young.
“Can Eve come?”
Albus smiles. “Yes, Eve can come. One of the houses at Hogwarts, Slytherin, is named for a wizard very much like yourself, who could speak to snakes. Some muggleborns may be squeamish around snakes, but they’re common in magical households. Even if people cannot speak to them, we use their shed skin and venom in potions.”
Tom looks entranced, “Can many magical people speak to snakes?”
“It’s uncommon in Britain, as we don’t have many indigenous snakes, but a more prominent talent in African and Asian magical communities. Salazar Slytherin isn’t exactly an English name. Some wizards, especially those with more recent muggle history, fear snakes for their association with the Christian devil, but Tom, this is a talent like any other. What you choose to do with it is what matters.”
The boy gives Eve another stroke. She’s moving more, and seems to be hissing directly into Tom’s ear. He hisses back and then looks at Albus determinedly. “I want to leave and I don’t want to come back.”
Albus smiles, stands, kicks the priest a third time for good measure, and extends a hand to Tom so he can step over him and off the bed. “We have funds for scholarship students, including for your clothes. Is there anything here, besides Eve, you want to take with you?”
Tom looks past the priest, now moaning faintly, to the wardrobe by the door. “There’s nothing here I want.”
The man, the boy, and the snake exit the room. Albus gives a meaningful glance to Bob, who nods and asks the visibly shaken Mrs. Cole to join him in Tom’s former room. Tom takes a deep breath and moves Eve into one of his pockets, looking up at Albus before saying quietly, “Thank you, professor.”
“My pleasure, Tom.”
In one world Albus Dumbledore so alienates himself from Tom Riddle that he allows an eleven year old muggleborn to make his own way across London to do his own shopping at Diagon Alley. In another, better world, they step out of Wool’s side by side, never to return.