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[Hogwarts] Ch 2: A Gamble
🕑 Added 2025-06-06 22:40:59 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
To be fair, Dumbledore had seen a lot. After a lifetime filled with magical chaos and impossible situations, he was pretty hard to rattle.
Sure, the "coincidences" were piling up fast, but he wasn't the type to jump to conclusions just because a kid had the same name and background as a certain infamous dark wizard.
He only spaced out for a few seconds before regaining his usual composure. Stroking his beard to cover his momentary distraction, Dumbledore smiled warmly at the boy still holding that perfectly polite posture.
"Mr. Riddle, 'honored' might be a stretch—but I agree, this is certainly an interesting twist of fate."
He chuckled lightly before continuing, "You see, we originally assigned a very busy Potions professor to be your escort. But he's at a critical stage in one of his brews and couldn't leave his lab unattended. So, you're stuck with this old man instead."
"But don't worry, you'll meet him soon enough. He's a true master of his craft. You'll learn a lot from him."
Dumbledore's tone shifted slightly, growing more curious.
"That said, Mr. Riddle, you're a rather unusual first-year. My colleagues and I have guided plenty of Muggle-born students into the wizarding world, but I've never met one who accepted the existence of magic quite so quickly."
He gave a casual snap of his fingers. The messy books on Tom's desk lifted into the air and neatly rearranged themselves.
"Normally, we have to use a few tricks like that to convince them we're not mad. Didn't you ever wonder if all this talk about magic was just some elaborate prank?"
Tom met Dumbledore's gaze head-on and calmly raised his hand.
"Magic's always been part of my life, sir."
A thick, gold-edged envelope shot out from a hidden gap in the bookshelf—his Hogwarts acceptance letter—and landed neatly in Tom's hand.
"I received this yesterday," he said, turning it over in his fingers. "But even before that, since I was six, I've noticed... things. Strange abilities. I figured I couldn't be the only one. There had to be others like me out there."
Clap, clap, clap.
Dumbledore didn't hold back his applause. His eyes twinkled with genuine admiration.
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Your control is outstanding."
"But allow me to correct one thing—you are special. In fact, children who can perform controlled magic before getting a wand are incredibly rare. Even in our world."
"I promise you, Tom, you have a bright future ahead of you in the magical arts."
It was true. Young witches and wizards often had accidental magical outbursts—it was expected. But most couldn't control it, and the magic usually lay dormant until they were trained with a wand.
What Tom had just done was far beyond what most could achieve at his age.
Dumbledore was genuinely excited. Hogwarts was about to gain an extraordinary student.
And yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but feel a tiny knot tighten.
He really is just like him...
"You flatter me, sir," Tom said modestly, lowering his gaze with what looked like a shy smile—though inside, he was quietly relieved.
(One hurdle cleared.)
Yup, Tom was a transmigrator.
When his powers first surged at age six, the flood of magic also unlocked memories from a past life.
At first, he hadn't realized exactly where—or what—this world was. Not until third grade, when he entered a math competition and met a girl named Hermione Granger.
After chatting with her and finding out her dad was a dentist... the realization hit him like a freight train.
This is the wizarding world of Harry Potter?!
And his name in this life?
Tom. Tom Riddle.
As in that Tom Riddle.
Voldemort.
He'd seriously considered changing his name, but UK law required parental consent for minors—or waiting until he turned eighteen. And besides, what if changing it somehow interfered with the Hogwarts letter tracking system? He wasn't about to risk missing his one shot at real magic.
So, he kept the name. Carried its weight. And just two days ago, the fabled Hogwarts letter arrived.
What he hadn't expected was for Albus Dumbledore himself to come pick him up.
But looking at it now, it made sense. Tom Riddle was just too significant a name for Dumbledore to ignore—especially when the boy behind it was handsome, smart, and clearly talented.
It was only natural the headmaster would want to investigate himself. Make sure this wasn't some reincarnated dark lord situation.
And when Dumbledore had started questioning how easily he accepted magic, Tom knew it was his first real test.
He'd considered feigning surprise and wonder, but fooling a man like Dumbledore—a century-old veteran wizard with more life experience than most countries—wasn't realistic.
So instead, Tom took the bold route: he showed off.
Displayed his gift. Owned it. And used it as the reason for his calm reaction.
Of course, it was still a gamble.
He was betting on Dumbledore being fair-minded enough not to judge him just for having that name. And that he wouldn't resort to mind-reading or Legilimency to dig through his memories.
If he'd guessed wrong... well, he'd planned to confess everything. Full disclosure. Who knows? Maybe he'd even get to witness Dumbledore speedrunning the destruction of all seven Horcruxes in one afternoon.
...Though there was always the risk of being dissected in the name of magical science afterward.
Thankfully, it hadn't come to that. Dumbledore had passed the test too—kind, wise, and entirely decent.
"I must say, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said as he stood up, "this has gone far more smoothly than I expected."
He smiled and added, "Since we've still got time, how about we head to Diagon Alley and get everything you need for school? I have an errand there myself."
"Of course, sir. Just give me a second."
Tom walked over to his desk and pulled a thick wad of cash from the drawer—mostly ten- and five-pound notes.
In the UK, just fifty-pound notes are rare, almost suspicious. Try using one at a corner shop and someone might not only refuse it, but also throw in a few creative insults involving your family tree.
"Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said, blinking as he realized what he'd overlooked. "I should've mentioned—Hogwarts and the Ministry offer a full scholarship to students with financial difficulties. You wouldn't need to repay a thing."
Tom raised the stack of notes with a smirk. "But I'm not exactly in need, am I?"
He flipped through the notes—twelve hundred pounds in total—and smiled.
.
.
.
