Hogwarts: a school of Witchcraft and Love (Tom Marvolo Riddle x F!reader)

chapter 2-08

Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk in his high-backed chair, welcomed Tom with a gentle motion, inviting the Slytherin to stand in front of him.

"Before I proceed, Tom, how are you holding up?"

Tom's striking brown eyes stared back, his mind already dissecting the underlying intentions behind the seemingly innocent question.

He felt multiple emotions churn inside of him. On one hand, he had grown up in orphanages, devoid of genuine care and concern. He had learned to fend for himself, relying on his own wits and cunning. He doubted anyone, especially a renowned figure like Dumbledore, could genuinely care for his well-being. On the other hand, a small part of him longed for a connection, compassion that he craved to find, even if it seemed unlikely.

Clever as he was, he connected the dots from the get-go. 'How are you holding up?' meant that he was involved with something or someone, an event that he was bothered by. Dumbledore's concern was really centered around someone else, not actually him, and he knew exactly who that someone else was.

You.

"I am doing decent, professor."

Dumbledore moved his position slightly, weathered hands settling gently on the desk, their presence almost tender. His eyes, like shards of ice, kept on Tom.

"I hope you are faring well," Dumbledore smiled. "Decent is a fair response, but I sense there may be more on your mind."

A frown creased Tom's smooth skin with his constant calculations and thoughts. His brows lowered slightly, adding seriousness to him, as if he was perpetually analyzing every word and gesture. He was looking for answers, for motives, and for any tricks.

"Truly feeling, Professor?" Tom was skeptical. "It's not often that someone genuinely wants to understand the emotions of a twelve-year-old boy."

Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. The warmth coming from him wrapped around the room like a comforting hug. "I understand your skepticism, Tom. But as one of the caretakers of Hogwarts, it is my duty to care for the well-being of all our students, regardless of age."

Tom's eyes, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon, raked Dumbledore's face. He felt the lies in the core of his doubts.

"Duty, Professor?" His voice lowered. "Duty often conceals hidden agendas, doesn't it? I find it difficult to believe in such care given my past experiences."

Connecting to Tom's gaze with kindness, Dumbledore's eyes shone with light. "I can understand why you might feel that way," he reasoned. "But Hogwarts is not like the orphanages you've known. Here, we strive to create an environment of compassion where every student's well-being is of paramount importance."

The skin around Tom's lips wrinkled, a playful challenge sat in the curl of his mouth. "Compassion and understanding, you say? They are qualities that have often eluded me. Why should Hogwarts be any different?"

Dumbledore hoped that he could somehow bring Tom closer to a truth he had yet to fully grasp. "Tom, Hogwarts is a place where you have the opportunity to redefine yourself, free from the constraints of your past," he imparted. "Here, you are not solely defined by your choices."

Tom watched closely for any signs of surprise or admiration that might betray the elder's true feelings. But as Dumbledore struggled to find anything else to add, Tom's doubts about the man's genuine care were reinforced.

Tom wanted to believe that Dumbledore cared, that there might be someone of age who saw beyond the mask he wore. But his past experiences had hardened him, making him wary of placing trust in others, especially those in positions of authority. He couldn't afford to be vulnerable, not when his ambition burned so fiercely within him.