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Chapter Text

A sharp creaking door rattled through the cobbled roads of Bishop Street, and a string of hesitation leapt through the young nun of Wool’s Orphanage who was intent on taking a mid-day break outside. The area felt strange. As if some otherworldly presence has scared everyone off.

She peeked outside the door, surveying the unusually empty streets. The sun shined through every window, and not even shadow figures could be seen in each apartment.

The street was empty, and just as she was about to retreat for cozier quarters, a habitual check of the front doorstep led her eyes to a small green bundle, lying as undisturbed as a rock.

“Oh hell! Another one is here Mrs. Cole! Looks good and abandoned too.” The young woman called out, practiced movements making her quiet enough to leave the children sleeping upstairs, as well as the one on the doorstep, undisturbed.

A harsh stomping of footsteps began, followed by the old matron chastising her, saying, “Oh dearie, you shouldn’t use those crude words, no matter what is going on. Absolutely unbecoming for a young girl, I say!”

Mrs. Cole, the matron, appeared at the door, peeking down at the front doorstep to catch sight of the newcomer. “Now, what do we have here, another one?”

“Looks to be another baby, Mrs. Cole. We’ve been getting so many lately.” She sighed, thinking of where they might have space for a whole crib. “But it’s no matter. Every child deserves to have a home, despite it being in a corner in a dark room, I suppose.”

The girl bent down, picking up the small bundle of green rags and revealing the new baby’s face. He was frowning as if he already knew the gloom she was thinking of. “Now aren’t you a little sweetheart!”

Mrs. Cole leaned over and agreed at the sight of the boy’s chubby face. “Well, that’s a cute one.”

Mrs. Cole dug into the heavy green rags the baby was wrapped in. “Ah, and here is a note, addressed right to me in fact.” She unraveled the small scratch sheet and walked further into the building as to not disturb the street. She began to read aloud once the younger girl had followed.

“Now, let’s see. Addressed to Wool’s Orphanage, head of care. Bishop Street, London, Britain. That’s us, alright.” Mrs. Cole continued with reading the letter’s contents once she had further unfolded it.

“Dear Wools Place,

This young boy is Thomas Marvalo Riddle Junior. Quite dapper, isn’t he? That’s thanks to his father, I suppose.

I believe the boy is a few months old now, born sometime in December I’d guess. He can’t talk or walk or anything of the sort yet, though, so perhaps you can guess better, being around children more.

I fear the boy’s father, as well as his mother—Ms. Merope Gaunt—, are both long gone. Unforeseen circumstances have plagued our world, and this time this young boy’s parents have suffered at the hands of it.

I request that Wool’s Orphanage keep Tom safe and fed, just for a few days. I have arranged for a man, one Armando Dippet, to pick Thomas up soon. He will arrive with a signed parchment, so please make sure he is the correct person.

Additionally, Mr. Dippet will compensate you a bill of 20 (twenty) pounds per day of care for young Tom upon picking him up. Granted, of course, that he is well provided for.

Best wishes,

H. Potter”

The note ended with a large, shaky signature. The pen ink leaked over each stroke of every letter as if the writer, H. Potter according to the letter, was thinking hard and deliberately while writing. Mrs. Cole tucked the letter into her apron pocket for later safekeeping and led the younger two further into the orphanage hallway, instructing a passing by young girl to go find a suitable room for Tom, one that this Dippet would approve of.

“Best get him settled then. It should not be too hard to keep him for just a little while. Poor kids, all losing their parents as such a young age.” Mrs. Cole said to the young nun later that night over a hot cup of tea.

“Well mark my words, Mrs. Cole, this dreadful period is sure to end soon. The 1930’s will be just amazing! Adoptions over adoptions, I’m telling you! And our pay, imagine the raises! Imagine the dresses I could buy!” The girl responded, sipping her hot tea primly after to contain her excitement.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Quiet is all I can hope for at my age. I’m sure you’ll soon understand, Miss Delk.” Mrs. Cole responded, getting up to signal for the outdoor guard to end his shift through the window.

Sounding through the roads of Bishop Street the metal front gate slammed closed as Wool’s orphanage was shut down for the night. Streetlights clicked on, parlors played their music, and old drunks filled the street.

Despite the little building of kids with no parents or the striking workers taking up the streets or the recovering war economy, Wool’s Orphanage was enduring on Bishop Street, in London.

It was 1926 and the sky was a dull, gloomy grey. The type that only a storm cloud could conjure on the earth’s surface. In fact, the whole city was a blooming bomb of smog and smoke and fire, each house in Little Hangleton transforming into a pile of steaming rubble.

And Harry Potter, a man who usually ran through time, found himself dropped into the burning remnants of the large Riddle estate, stood in front of two Tom Riddles in fact. One Riddle was bruised and weary, laying on the ground as if it were his death bed. The other Riddle, still at the beginning of his own life, cried in his crib, shocked and whining because of the sharp bangs that sounded through the grey air.  

Harry observed the scene, eyes settling upon the crib first. He walked to the small crib, bending slightly below crib mobile as to not disturb the baby sleeping under it. Harry came face to face with the baby, laying a comforting cooling charm over him so he doesn’t heat up from the nearby fires.

“Why, hello little man,” Harry cooed. “The weather isn’t too nice today, not at all. All stormy and destructive. I can see why you’re so upset. You think you can quiet down for a second though?”

Harry checked the baby over for any bruising, sighing in thanks when there wasn’t any bruising or blood to be found.

“You’ll find that the weather is never nice. At least not here, not now. Though I suppose it is worse than usual, currently.” A toad said from near Harry’s shoes, interrupting his quick moment of calm. Harry glanced down, surprised at the animal’s strange appearance, but found nothing but ash covered wooden flooring and the older Tom Riddle that Harry had yet to help.

“You look confused.” The croaked voice came again, much to Harry’s perplexment. This time, when he searched for the voice, he realized that it came from the man lying on the floor.

At this, Harry comprehended that the ragged croak came from this man, and no man should sound like that. Harry quickly left the crib to kneel by the man’s tired body. A curse left him upon rolling the man into the light and removing his overcoat.

He was losing blood, and quick.

Harry cast a healing spell and warm yellow light pooled around him and the other man, the small cuts visibly closing underneath the bright light and the large ones calming down. Harry cast a few more spells, getting out his wand to channel more power into his healing.

“Yes, I am confused. You looked, umm, hurt. You and everybody in this little town, actually.” Harry continued channeling magic into the light. “I’m not sure if I’ve seen one living soul here besides you and your son. If I may ask, what has happened in this town? Why is everybody gone…or dead.” Harry wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know.

The man spoke again, though with great effort; this time his voice was clearer and the cuts on his chest no longer bled as he spoke.

“You don’t know what happened? It was Him. He came through here and destroyed just about everything but him and me. But us.” The man nodded towards the crib. “Still on his war path, I guess. Never thought it would get this little town.”

“I see.” Harry nodded to show the man that he’s listening. “I’m afraid that you are much too wounded to heal. You are bleeding out quickly, and even my magic can’t help. I’m sorry, if only I’d been better at healing magic.” Harry hesitated.

“You will undoubtedly die here, in this time.” He saw the man’s eyes travel towards the crib. “What would you like me to do with your son?”

The man closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, leaning his head down against the floor. Harry continued his healing efforts despite knowing they would amount to nothing.

“My son. His name is Thomas Marvalo Riddle. Named after me.” The man began. “His mother, a witch I will not honor by anything but name, is Merope Gaunt. Her whole family lives right up that big hill outside town. I suppose, if I cannot be here for him, I would like him to be raised with his rightful name, so it was best to tell you that.”

Thomas paused, his eyes still closed in thought, and Harry almost thought he was dead, if not for the slight husky pull of breath he took.

“I would not like Tom to be raised with the Gaunts, even if they are still alive. No, let him grow great power on his own. Enough that he can be free of people like that. He is a rightful heir of Slytherin, and although I myself am not magical, I believe he has power that can be nurtured well. Let him live and thrive and do what I couldn’t, love the people he wants and make his own choices. Please-“ The man’s breathing flickered, a handful of blood falling out of his coughing mouth.

Harry blinked back tears, staying strong to appease the elder Riddle. “Okay. I understand. You can rest now.”

He walked to the crib and picked up the baby, wrapping him in his thick green blankets. Harry took the baby over to the man, granting the pair one last moment together.

“Goodbye, my sweet son,” The man whispered to the small baby held by his dying body.

“I will do as you wish. Rest well, you have lived a tiring few hours, and now you must rest.” Harry stepped past the doorway with the baby, casting one last soothing charm onto the resting body on the floor.

“Goodbye, Tom. I love you.” Were the last words Tom Riddle Sr. rasped out as Harry disappeared in a brilliant burst of light, one shining beacon of hope in the dull smokey air.

Chapter Text

Armando Dippet approached a grimy brown building, surveying the grown over bricks covering the walls and the shrieking gates tied down to wooden stakes on either side of the entrance.

Bishop Street was empty, and for good reason too. No muggle could view this man seemingly popping in and out of existence on his way to pick up this new ward. And he was all ready to pick him up too wearing a black suit and carrying an old, wrinkled letter in one hand and a briefcase for appearances in the other. Dippet knew muggles respected that kind of get-up, and he was not going to force himself into a suit for one more day, not if he could help it!

You see, Dippet had walked up this old street several times now over the years. The same suit and tie and briefcase, the same progressively more wrinkled letter in hand. He was ready to pick up this child, had been for years.

As Hogwart’s principal, duty called often, though, and Dippet was forced to retreat to fix matters at the school before he had the chance to finish this business.

Dippet walked up the creaky steps and knocked on the large, wooden door, pausing at the commotion his loud knock seemed to have caused behind it.

Eventually, the door opened, and a young lady peered from behind it, rocking a small cooing baby in one arm and holding another child’s hand in the other. Her apron was stained and her hair frazzled. Dippet predicted the orphanage was overrun, based on her tired eyes and the noise that erupted from inside.

“Oh! Hello!” She said brightly despite her hunched stature. Speaking over her shoulder to another caretaker presumably, she continued, “Thank the lord it is a man and not a baby.” She turned back to him.

Seeing his confused expression, the woman explained, “We are overrun! Every square meter taken! I must say, you are a sight for sore eyes.” Her grin fell quickly. “Wait. Please tell me you are here to adopt, not drop off?”

“Miss Delk, do you ever learn! That is no way to greet a respectable man. A prospective parent.” Another woman, much older with a strict face, came into view and interrupted their conversation, or rather Miss Delk’s one-woman conversation. “Hello sir! I’m Mrs. Cole. What might you be here for today?”

“Ah, yes.” Dippet began, eager to get to the point before he is forced to leave again. “I am here for one Thomas Marvalo Riddle Junior. I presume he is now a few years old?” Dippet had practiced this interaction several times over the years. He was prepared for the recognition on Mrs. Cole’s face, but not for the look of…annoyance? Perhaps disgust or even fear?

“Oh, yes, I know you. Are you Mr. Dippet by chance?” She asked as she led him inside the orphanage and then out again through a back door. “We have all been waiting for you for many years now. Me and young Tom, I mean.”

“Pardon my tardiness. I understand I was meant to pick this boy up years ago, but the world is always busy, doesn’t stop for even one day.” He replied, scanning over what looked to be a crowded playground of sorts.

“I hear that!” She chuckled loudly, quieting only when she reached the middle of the playground. She took in a deep breath in and suddenly-

“Tom! You better come out here right now, young man!” She yelled over the noise of playing children. “Got a visitor!”

When nothing happened for a few minutes, Mrs. Cole excused herself around the corner. Mr. Dippet stood, lost on what to do as he waited for her return.

“Hey! Mister!” Dippet turned around upon hearing a young kid call for him from a few feet away. He turned to see a group of young children crowded together and watching him expectantly.

“Yes? Do you need something from me?” He asked them.

“Are you here for that freakshow? Tom Riddle, I mean.” One of the kids piped up in response.

Mr. Dippet walked closer to them, understanding this was not a conversation they were meant to be having with him. “I sure am. What about Tom marks him as a ‘freak’?”

“Well, you see… He’s just weird! A freak! That’s the only way to describe him.” Another one of the kids said.

Then, another kid chimed in. “Yeah, if you’re around him, something bad is sure to happen to you!”

“That’s why he’s all the way at the dumpster. We don’t let him hang around us because we don’t want to get cursed!”
 
“Cursed! That’s a good word to describe what he does to us.” The kids all nodded in agreement. “Mister, if I was you, I wouldn’t adopt him. He’s a total freakshow-!”

“Not that I’m complaining if you take him away from here though!” One of the kids interrupted, bringing out a harsh cackle from the group.

“Boys!” Mrs. Cole’s voice caused the group to scurry every which way. “What did I say about talking to the adults that kindly visit us! C’mon now, scram!”

Mrs. Cole was pulling a young boy, Tom most likely, by the arm. The boy was average height for his age but somehow looked smaller, as if he were purposefully pulling his limbs in on himself as a protective shield.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Dippet. Those boys don’t have enough manners to save their lives!” She brought Tom to a stop, placing her hand on his shoulder to straighten his back. "This here is Tom Riddle, just as you asked. Say hello to the nice man, Tom.”

The boy seemed to transform at that oddly harsh command, posture straightening so he is no longer making himself smaller than he looks and head tilting up as if Dippet wasn’t taller than the boy.  

“Hello Mr. Dippet, sir. My name is Thomas Marvalo Riddle Junior.” Tom said every syllable of his name with practiced disciple, obviously taking great honor in his name. “It is very nice to make your acquaintance, sir.”

Dippet was surprised at such manners, the other boys paling in comparison to the one before him. “Yes, it is nice to meet you, Tom. I am here as a messenger to deliver you to your new…er- family. I must speak to you in private first though, if that is acceptable to you, Mrs. Cole.”

“Yes, perfectly fine! In fact, you two may use the pantry stock to speak, it will be empty right now.”

She led them to the dusty pantry and promptly left after shutting the door. Awkward silence took over the room before Dippet dusted off an old box and began his practiced speech from the perch.

“Tom, everything I say today must not leave this room. If you decline my offer, you will forget everything said today. Do you understand?”

While most children Dippet had this conversation with were often asking many questions at this point, confused by the vague nature of his question, Tom just nodded confidently, confirming with a quick, “I understand.”

“Alright then.” Dippet paused in case late panic set into Tom, continuing when nothing happened. “I am Armando Dippet, headmaster of Hogwarts School for magical children. I understand this will be a lot to take in, but there is a separate world from this one that co-exists on the same earth. A magical one where most everyone can perform feats that muggles, that is what we call people that cannot do magic, can never fathom.” Dippet paused to look at Tom, but he still looked unfazed.

“I am here today as a messenger. You are a wizard, Tom. If you consent, I will take you to another orphanage, a magical one, where you will begin your magical training and grow your knowledge, and then eventually go to Hogwarts. From there, once you are a full-fledged wizard, you can do most anything. You can choose to continue living in the magical world go back to the muggle world and do what your heart desires there. Of course, that is all on the condition that, when you are of age, you will join our military service in fighting against the dark lord Grindwald.”

“I understand this is a lot to take in, but I need a swift decision. You have until the end of the day to-“

“I consent. I want to be taken to the magical world.” Tom interrupted him, approving of this new world revealed to him and of leaving Wool’s Orphanage as casually as one would read the newspaper.

“What? You don’t want to think a bit longer? Once you leave today, you will have very little chances to visit until you are of age to do so yourself. And remember, you cannot back out of this deal once you are taken away.”

“I am perfectly fine with those conditions. I would rather never return to this dammed place again. Now, shall we be on our way?” Tom was oozing of confidence not fit for a six-year-old. In fact, nothing about him was fitting for a six-year-old, polished mannerisms, confident decisions, and polite speech. It was clear his decision was made.  

“Of- of course, Tom. I will go confirm with Mrs. Cole right now.” Dippet took one last glance at the six-year-old as he went to go find Mrs. Cole, confounded at his easy decision.

“Sure, I’ll pack up as you finish any business up. Not that Mrs. Cole is going to pose much of an obstacle for me to leave this dreadful orphanage, always wanted me gone, that woman.”

Tom, was of course, correct.

He was correct about many things, in fact. Yes, Mrs. Cole eagerly signed the papers that made his leave official. Yes, there was another hidden world out there, one where things beyond his current knowledge could occur. Tom always knew the world couldn’t just be the streets of Bishop Neighborhood.

And finally, the one piece of knowledge Tom lived his life on. Tom Riddle was better than those around him. At least for now, while his knowledge was still so limited, he was the best. In due time, once he arrived in this new world, Tom would become the best there, too.

It was gratifying.

Bags in tow, mostly filled with stolen books and old scraps called clothes, Tom said his last goodbye to the orphanage. He plastered on a cheerful smile so that his so-called peers would realize that he was going to a place better than they would ever be.

After all, while they didn’t know about magic, Tom was standing next to an incredibly well-dressed man. He looked like he was going home to a rich family, and Tom wasn’t going to correct them.

Just as he turned away from the old building, ready to leave, a soft voice called out. Miss Delk, who was by far Tom’s favorite person, had stopped him, clothes ruffled as if she had just gotten out of bed.

“Tom! Wait, let me talk to you sweetheart.” Miss Delk took him aside, far from Mr. Dippet’s hearing range, and knelt to be at the same eye level. She was smiling, stroking his hair in a motherly way. Her eyes showed worry, though.

“Tom. Hi, sweetheart.” Tom hated how Miss Delk always spoke to him like he was a child. “I wanted to see you one last time before you left. Check how you were feeling about it.”

Tom wouldn’t admit it, but Miss Delk would be one person he would miss dearly while he was away. He remembered how Miss Delk used to rock his crib till he slept when he was a baby, her bed was right next to his and she always made sure he was settled before she got comfortable. The orphanage was overcrowded when he was dropped at the doorstep and the only place they could find for his crib was in the staff rooms.

Other kids always made fun of him for that, saying he wasn’t wanted by his parents or the even the orphanage, but Miss Delk would comfort him, saying, “They just don’t realize the extra perks you’re getting, Tom! Hell, I would’ve killed for a quiet room like this when I was an orphan.”

Then she would take him back to the staff rooms before he cried, knowing that Tom hated it when other’s saw how they affected him. She would hand Tom one of her schoolbooks or novels she had bought with her small earnings. They were all over his age range, but he read so much it didn’t even matter anymore. Picture books were long beyond Tom’s abilities.  

So now, when Miss Delk hugged him goodbye after he told her he was fine, unable to admit that he was the slightest bit scared, Tom hugged her back. He wrapped his arms around her and her lift him up, just like they did when he was younger.

“Goodbye Miss Delk. I’ll miss you. A lot.” Tom admitted into her ear before one last hug. Finally turning around to leave afterwards.

Tom could here Miss Delk walking to the large gate behind them, hearing one last, “Bye Tom!” But before he could respond, he was caught in a burst of light, no longer able to keep track of his senses.

Miss Delk had been watching Tom retreat, tears catching in her eye at seeing her sweet boy walk away. The pair walked down Bishop Street and Miss Delk watched fondly till her attention was caught by the children playing next to her. When she looked back for one last glimpse, the pair were suddenly gone, no longer on Wool’s Orphanage Road on Bishop Street.

Mr. Dippet led Tom to King’s Cross Station, much to his puzzlement.

Tom looked around, admiring the high ceilings and colorfully stained glass that he had never gotten the chance to look at before. “Mr. Dippet, why are we here? I don’t presume we can access this ‘Hogwarts’ through an everyday train line, can we?”

“Well, you should presume it, my dear Tom, because this is in fact the way to Hogwarts. Well, the scenic way. I wanted you to experience your first trip into the magical world in the most fulfilling way possible, through the Scottish Highlands!” Dippet pointed his finger at the sky in a theatrical way hoping to get Tom excited.

Dippet glanced at Tom after his declaration, getting a straight on view of Tom’s skeptical face instead of any sort of amusement. “I’m sure you’ll like it once you’re on the train, get that look off your face!”

“Very well,” Tom acquiesced. “Let’s go then, I want to put my bags down.”

The two made their way over to a random pillar, Mr. Dippet walking confidently to the structure and waiting for Tom’s short legs to get him there.

“I am sure you will be impressed now, Tom! Just look!” Dippet quickly formed his hand into a fist and pulled his arm back as if about to punch the wall. Tom almost winced as Dippet’s hand met hard concrete but, to his amazement, his hand went right through! Then slowly, hand then arm then torso all disappeared past the pillar.

Tom examined it with great interest. He didn’t sense anything strange about it like he did when Dippet teleported, no, apparated, them to the station. And nobody else seemed to even bat an eye at the pillar, so obviously he wasn’t missing something apparent.

No, this was magic. Magic unlike what Tom had seen in his limited years. But Tom knew he would know it all soon, better than anyone else.

Tom schooled his expression, taking a few steps back and running through the pillar with his bags in hand. His body felt odd as he stepped through, as if each limb was melding to the pillar. Just as he thought he may have wholly embarrassed himself by simply slamming into the concrete or had somehow messed up the magic, he felt his limbs unstick from the pillar and a push forward, popping out of the other side fully intact. Tom doublechecked himself and baggage in a craze, praying that his journey would not be ended by something so plebian looking.

“Ah, Tom. There you are, I was wondering when you would get through.” Mr. Dippet looked like he taking great joy in Tom’s panic. “Now, let’s go then. To put our bags down, yes?” Mr. Dippet copied Tom’s earlier unamused tone, a mocking sparkle in his eyes. Tom couldn’t find it in himself to hate the man, though. Not after granting him access to a life path beyond what he could have dreamed. And anyways, the man looked more like a teasing uncle then an actual bully.

Tom shifted his attention to his surroundings. He took in the scenery as they walked to a train line, sighting a strange arrangement of black robes and owls in cages, and huge sticks that magic seemed to pop out of, and even…strange creatures? It was like a magical version on the normal King’s Cross Station, odd and mystical.

Tom took it all in, scanning his eyes over every square metre, knowing this would soon be his home. No longer would the orphanage be what came to mind when he thought of what was his. It would be this place, this world. Tom was sure of it.

Tom followed Mr. Dippet into the train, a man checking their tickets as they climbed up the steps. They found an empty train compartment and settled in, Tom placing his bags under the seats and Mr. Dippet helping him place his coat in the rack above the seats. Mr. Dippet sat comfortably, stating, “My old bones will need a bit to get used to these seats. Haven’t sat in this train for ages. Oh, the memories!”

 Mr. Dippet had told Tom that this journey would last a few hours and from the nostalgic look in his eyes, Tom knew this would feel much longer. Tom knew the type, the old men who insisted on telling their entire childhood multiple times over when there was even a second of empty silence.  

Just as Mr. Dippet was about to start his ramblings, there was a knock on the door interrupting him.